The Paradox of Night

It is here Night is born, cold and imposing
Thoughts whirl about, the shadows enclosing
A hand on Her cold grey back decomposing
All intentions sealed tight beyond any disclosing.

Sequestered in Darkness lie secrets unknown,
By nature of darkness, these seeds are unsown.
Even the chosen miss what She's shown
Or not shown, sitting upon Her great Throne.

But these secrets are hidden! They cannot be found!
Deeper they simper, beneath the dark ground
A moaned supplication for that which we crave
Returns nothing but silence, akin to the grave

If not us than whom, are the Dancers unfit?
Do we not revere, respect and commit?
Surely the secret of Night's shadowy flit
Is more than to keep one's secrets and wits?

Silence is knowing, perfect and wise
But within the dark silence wisdom just dies
The paradox of Night, one's knowledge can't grow,
Except to know to keep one's secrets laid low

If the secret is just to keep one's secrets then why
Do the shadows still ask us to hunt, stalk and spy?
All that encourages is hunting each other
We keepers of secrets, it's our brothers we smother.

We do not breed strength by breeding discord
Why not fight by our brothers, why put them to sword?
We don't all have to suffer to please this dread whim
Function as one, stand united and win

Everyone thinks only of their own very self
Unity is greater than tomes on a shelf
Keeping from friends doesn't help us survive
But the logic of secrets can't but contrive.

A look upward shows Crow flying higher and higher
Surrounded by blackness in Night's grim attire
Flying great circles, as if to inspire
The silence that our great forest requires