In the middle of the night comes the bard of dreams. His music soothes the bodies of those in his care, and his words evoke laughter and joy in their sleep.
In the stillness and calm of the absence of light, the automaton groans with whoosh and whir. The low rumble of fans venting heat into the open air, aiding the Master in keeping his charges in comfort to dream through the night.
Those who run on different clocks are mow alert. Their minds race in many directions while their bodies crave the comfort of the Master and his melodies. They try to combat their desires, but age and wisdom reveals that the Master is patient and untiring. He knows they will give up...eventually. The older they get the more they realiZe he will win, so fight their fleeting thoughts in an effort to shorten his wait.
As they lay their heads down to surrender, they force thoughts designed to focus their minds. These thoughts have been honed over the years until they know them by heart. They know this train of thought only has one destination...
into the arms of the Master until the morning comes again.
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