The grey black night

In swirling mists

In dreams and nightmares

the surreal exist
Solid and shadows

Shape changers and ghosts

Search for enemies, friends

And living hosts
Benign and evil

Voices and apparitions

In all cities

Country-sides and nations
The night is theirs

It belongs to they

Those that fear

Become their prey
But without fear

With ample respect

You may join or observe

Their mysterious sect
Those strong of soul

And open of mind

May understand, even embrace

The surreal kind
A thirst for knowledge

Not for power

Will allow you to dance

In the surreal hour

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