Here in the meadow,
Soft green grass underfoot;
The glitter, the awe,
The playful silver moonlight
Swathing the platform
For our revelry and dance,
And the indigo night sky but
A smoldering, magnificent
Ocean of stars as they twinkle.

The heavens expand to envelop the beings,
Tmp, tmp, tmp as they emerge from hiding.
Trilling giggles
And tender songs
Gently nudge the field awake
As the soft, round moon begins its
Roving journey
Across the sympathetic sky.

Children subside here:
The place where sweet dreams dwell.
They play and dance and twist in the gloom.
Dim yet brilliant moonlight
Be their guide
And wash over their pure souls
As they play and laugh.

Friendships and secrets
Waft on the air tinged with
Peppermint and sugar, the perfume of angels.

Hushed footsteps and blithe auras;
Swallowed whispers and giggles alike:
It is here that children find their glee;
Their joy and smiles
Their essence as it flows
From the crystal stream
In that grand land of dreams;
The great milky way
Encircling young hearts.

Excitement
Ways down the pungent air tonight
(It is but a narcotic, to calm rowdy ambitions);
As their souls
Sneak away from small bodies
Left by dull, boring bedsides to wait
For
The
Morn.

The gentle serenade of
A cooing silver flute
Shatters the sky into a thousand fiery lightning bugs:
It has begun!
All children rejoice!
The Tatari Mokke
Has begun
His concert of
Death,
Death,
And death.
And none shall be rejected
Nor excluded at all!

The little ones chase
Silky wisps of the girls' hair
And satiny shirt tails
Aimlessly.
Because it is an evening
Ample in naive delight
That arouses the merriment--
'Twill be fresh soul's doom.

Ha-ha!
Ha-ha!
You can't catch me now!
Keep the blinds open:
Let the rain join in the drumbeat.
Pelt, pelt, pelt, pelt
We need no outside world.
'Tis the young one's paradise
And 'tis
Their demise.

All night,
All night;
The bliss of just being here.
Till the first smoldering rays
Of golden sun appear.
Then it's,
"See you tomorrow!"
As it is with simple bonds,
And the Tatari Mokke
Opens his eyes.

Then it's piercing silence.
All stops dead.
They are two round worlds of
Deception and despair.
The traveling musician,
How you calmed my soul!
But why,
Why,
Why
Kill me now?

The elegant naive fish
Have taken the bait
Of hell's keeper
And the tragic tale of nightfall.
Just because the young souls seem
The easiest to kill--
My!
How they suffer
It the searing reaches
Of oblivion,
Tatari Mokke.