The oldest night

The seeming same under heavens sparkling tent,

passing transparent grays when moonlight went.

Mental aggregation from that pain of deep,

when all could be perfect with some needed sleep.

Unpredictable tincture when unknown one self embrace,

myriads of senses painting some speculated place.

Same but not same from subtle melodies of haze,

memories in different light play mental amazed.

Is that the prophesy to shift that light to shade,

or is madness a soft color weaving a parade.

Smiting faces in facets laughing by fraction in time,

loving affection needed as promised everlasting prime.

Shrouds of shivering sensations quickly manifold,

pouncing adrenalin pushing the heart so bold.

Ecstasies of psychic destruction in vain,

fears not recognized pushing some catalyst again.

So many deaths to bring back the unique sole self,

frames of beauties still stream in graceful parallels.

Charmed images flying to all bewilder new,

the quicken of life eventually changes the view.                             

Not wanting to see that Jack in the box of self therein,                         

parts of recognition call it dementia with respect to refine.