Under the moon's bright glory

in tenebrous night-time I roam

but I tell a different story

for I am a gleeful Gloam

Blissful and stout are the Noondays

under the sun's hot glare

and elegant ghosts are the Longrays

gliding in golden light's air

Midlights their owners enamor

with shapechanging magic of light

working their age-old glamour

then fading at dawning of night

We Gloam are not known for our gloating

but rather our glowering gloom

to the dark our existence devoting

filled with glumness and drabness and doom

But I say the day's overrated

with its brightness and glimmer and glow

and its merriment exaggerated

so its glaring I'll gladly forego

In exchange for the witchingest hour

for things that glean life at nightfall

for starshine and meteor showers

for the owl's and cricket's sweet call

So take heart, all you nightshadow beings

and fill your black shade-hearts with glee

the stygian night is quite freeing

and the Moon's sun enough for me