As the mid night sigh, the wind exhale it last breath,
as the moon comply, dimmed it gets.

The night stands still, as silence draw nigh with guilt,
for it silence was irrelevant, a dark moment was built,
it was inconvenient, vacant, and insufficient.
The sky over shadow by clouds, the air stuff with filth;
dragging the night crier howl, making it sway and tilt.

 The shadows, the clouds, brought unwanted signs,
 whereby, the moon refuse to shine,
the stars being reluctant, to earth they were blind,
to perceived the night is to be competent, but yet it was rewind.
As the mid night crier continue to howl,
the moon tune viciously, as the light comes null,
dark night meets it need gradually; slow it pace to proceed.

What a change to the crier duty, and customary will.
What went wrong was a mystery, that couldn't appeal,
the dark shadows became history, as the night stand still.

The moon wasn’t visible, for not a glimpse it can see,
acquiring the impossible, wasn’t meant to be,
the crier was invincible, but yet couldn’t perform it duty,
sadness becomes compatible, that inflicted its expectancy.

The mid night crier wasn't the same, as it began to rain;
the crier howling become lame, for the dark shadows  was to blame,
as it cover its name, lack it became, to destroy it fame.
 As the crier moan soullessly, with a solemn tone,
angrily, heart felt like stone, weak and slumber, felt alone.

The sound of mid night weaken, without the crier tone,
the necessary stricken, the sound of hope seems gone.
Awake to the night it cannot sleep,
twisting and crawling, yet no sign of a single heart beat,
 for it minds wasn’t the same, to the moon it claim,
the afflictions has chasten it time,
the night, the dark shadows  presence were wildly tame.

There in the mash, in the creek it sits,
 in the valley, on the hills, to the moon it speaks,
with the language it ever repeat, await to the moon,
 the light of configuration,  as it howling increase, with multiple heart beats,
there, were less sign of precipitation, but more of dispersion.

The mid night crier look into the air,
as a sign of hope begins to appear, the sky began to clear,
for the crier fortitude finding no fear, enormously,
as it continue to stare, implied the cries that speak,
 the language of the moon it can hear,
from it will power, far or near.

 The gusting wind  asked questions, the clouds moved to ratify,
the dark night humble itself, as light of serenity passes by,
for what the mid night crier know,
it cries to the moon was a election show,
the fortunate crier assembles with joy,
as it howl louder than before.