Is twilight time for dreamers?

For the readers, the devourers,

The savages of stories and stars?

Do our souls beat in a different time

That the world sleeping around us?

Do they twinkle like constellations

(that light of long-dead novas)

Illuminating our mindless dance in the dark?

Do our eyes peer curiously into veils of shadow

Into those things they call demonic

And remember when they called us the same?

Perhaps vampires and visionaries both

Find solace in the night

In that hazy in-between that frightens most

Who will I walk with tonight?

What stories might i scribe, which exploits might I embark on

For the night is young, and when dreams are restless

Neither reverie nor reality can contain them.