Every indigo night <br />Lost souls stagger <br />Right into the blue hole in the corner. <br />Where one would find <br />A room with spider-lights <br />And a table for every mourner. <br /> <br />A blue velvet curtain rises <br />And there they stand, <br />Music-makers, dressed devil-fine. <br />Order up a glass of the finest wine <br />But there is no food, <br />The music is all there is to dine. <br /> <br />They sit at their tables <br />And the music swells and looms <br />Like a bag of amethysts <br />That bursts onto a midnight dawn. <br />Then memories rush back, <br />The lost find their pathways <br />And the rest are reborn.<br /><br />K. Jared Hosein<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/rebirth-the-lost-souls-club/
