Captured all that inspires

“If I lose the light of the sun, I will write by candlelight, moonlight, no light. If I lose paper and ink, I will write in blood on forgotten walls. I will write always. I will capture nights all over the world and bring them to you.”

-Henry Rollins

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We only wanted to look at him.  We set the trap in the meadow.  It had metal bars and a gate that slammed shut whenever footsteps crossed the threshold.  People barely believed in him anymore, but we did.  We had seen his shadow. 
We caught him the first time out.
We thought it was luck.  We thought it was fate.
We were proud of ourselves. 
There he was, hiding from the sunlight.  Crows circled overhead.
He didn't move, so we poked him with sticks.  We were afraid that if we opened the gate he would run, so we watched him all through the day.
Tell us your name, we said.  We knew if he did he'd be ours forever.
He said nothing.  Perhaps he couldn't speak.
He was growing paler.  He looked like moonlight.
He was so beautiful we couldn't stop looking at him.
We watched him all day long.
Tell us, we asked, again and again.
He said nothing until he disappeared, curled up like a leaf, gone.  We heard clearly that his name was sorrow, and now he was ours forevermore.
Excerpt from The Story Sisters written by Alice Hoffman

My Dishonest Heart

Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim gray sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Excerpt taken from The Stolen Child by W B Yeats

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Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.
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Excerpt taken from The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe

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