A poem for the dead of night

A poem for the dead of night

It is a lovely night;
The soft breeze from my window gently caressing my senses.
I feel compelled to meet it blow by blow.

In facing the haughty resistance of weather I smile at my own resolution.

What wonders could endurance ever win me but virtue?
Though in the dead of night I confess to my own doubts, whatever they be, and whenever they may come.
Like a hurricane my feelings, every emotion I possess, whirling around me, enticing me out.

All this becomes reality first and only as when I reach out for my pen, and bringing it down blank, paper.
On this piece of paper my whole existence relish and bloom, my life in eight sentences…
But more will follow as it always does, however it begins, however it ends;
Forever and Eternity