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The Night Mares



Restless In a still night

No moon softening Sharp stars No cloud drapery.

Against this midnight The night mares move

Sharing colour with the darkness.

What cannot find them is found by them,

There are no ways secret:

Spiralling stars leave every sky familiar,

Foraging herds by trails of green weeds Breach every sacred sanctuary.

The night mares Sleep standing up.

Contain any stallion, Give birth in the middle of any weather,

Can knock bones, eyes, internal organs out of any creature.

Simply by their passing Men have been sucked breathless.

The night mares

Know where dragons come from,

And who, mothered by seas and singing desert sands,

The twin birthed are.

In languages that the thunder knows, They answer one another.

Navigating easily unbridled, No boundary deceives them.

Yielding, the only response they know.

P.D. Lyons was born and raised in the USA, travelled and lived abroad, and has been residing in Ireland since 1998. The work of P.D. Lyons has also appeared in many publications throughout the world.

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