Bats
S
Smoky Hoss
0
Altın Yaprak
Slow and quiet a tempest builds
like wind sneaking upon waves,
at the edge of darkness
shadows break from hidden caves -
Rising into the glow
of a full moon night,
the flying numbers so many
they swallow every drop of light -
With the tormented twist
of a black cyclone,
in one breath
they turn airborne -
Ascending and spreading
hurried they go,
racing upon the night
in a feeding frenzied flow -
Driven by the unrelenting power of instinct
only one thing can cause this deed of the dark to be done:
the returning light
of the newborn rising sun -
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