We ride the night.
The streets are ours
and we pound them
alone
as we experience all
the darkness has to offer.
When the hours go from large
to small,
we own them.
We are masters of the sleeping time
denying Morpheus his domain.

There are others on these darkened streets
but we ignore them
and they ignore us
as we each go off
on unique missions
of chaos and dissent,
fission,
division.

We explode out into the world
waking none
despite our energy.
It is quiet out there
and
mighty as we feel
we few are not enough
to rouse the sleeping dragon of exhaustion
that others know.
It’s just as well.
There is room for more of us in the black
– but not too many.

We dine on the scraps the night-time provides.
We ride through the hours that others don’t see.
We drink of wine-dark adventures
and race the stars to bed
We usually lose
but it is the contest
that’s most important
not the victory.

We live.
We thrive.
We adventure.
We’ll sleep another time.