Black ink spreads as blood,
nature’s roofies shroud the roof
of the hemisphere.
The rhythm of active hearts
settles, a pitter
patter of worn souls at ease.
douse the rage, induce the calm
of tranquil rest.
I hate the ending, but I got stuck and I’m sleepy. SO! Critique always welcome. This is a tanka of sorts… took liberties on the second stanza and reversed the beats of each line. I’ll need to revisit the last stanza sometime, but not tonight.