Midnight

This poem is a prologue for a book I've been stewing over, hinting at theme and a mystery.

“We stir sometimes
In our sleep,
Contemplating death
– The soul transcending time –
And in our bodies weep.
And, determined so,
That before we die
We in our cities grow
And in our vessels
Tread o’er the sky.

Be it will or inspiration
To find who we are,
We with our mighty magic
– Realizing our ascension –
Sew our hope in ev’ry star.
But forgetting sunrise,
To ourselves we lie.
And for our fear of death
– With knowledge our disguise –
We in adaptation die.”