Setting sun upon golden stage
Blessed enabler
Bury random thoughts in
milky twilight
Open the doorway to peace
this star-filled night
Songs of the forest ,
mourners of the canopy atop
moonlit chandeliers
Set the stage for a thousand years
Every nocturnal beast -
and nightfall songster
Sing to waning sunshine
To springtime constellations
Of hope before universal nations
Of the quest for dawn , rivers of pure light and salvation*...

i don't need you to dream about me
nightmares will do just fine
as long as you don't live without me
as long as i stay on your mind

She stops, asks a hug,
Our tender hug was pictured,
A scented moment.

.

I am merely the conduit...
For those who are voiceless.
Or the servant even...
To things which lay silent.
I am the medium through which
you come alive.

A noteworthy find,
but your words are still your own.
Birthed from the deepest ocean of thoughts...
Forged with the fiercest fires of emotions...
And harvested from the richest mine we call life.

But I hadn't planted the seeds...
You did.

But you did nurture them,
so they might flourish.
You did share them,
so others you nourish.
If I am anything in this enterprise,
I am the wind that brushes your skin...
Not the gust that fills your sail.

Then I accept that we're both so fitting.
Therefore I acknowledge you
as you do I.



Me
Muse

.

This is my bargain.
Day for night
and night for day.

There isn't a time where I hadn't wished
that the day would end to make way for night.

Nights offer a bleak sense of comfort.
Almost as if they'd grant a temporary cloak which
you could huddle under and think or...
Overthink in the dark.

You could bargain shamelessly with tears running streams down your face and no one could see.
You could negotiate with reality for the slight perchance that things would turn out alright come daylight.
You could voice out your barter in hushed tones and still be somewhat assured that no one would know.
All of this...
In the cover of night.

Then when sleep eludes, you can't help but beg for day to come.
For with the light comes the day's responsibilities; all eager and raring to go.
Much like runners at the start line, anticipating the shot to be fired at the crack of dawn.
Shot fired and they'd come swooping down on you...
Sweeping you off your feet and carries you off to where you need to be, doing what you're paid to do for the next 8 to 10 hours.

That is your break from the dark.
That is your retreat from all the thinking.
That is your escape from... yourself.

And then...
4 hours into the day, you're wishing for night again.

to be one with the far unknown depths
enter silence where dwells the silent
and learn the language of the Cosmos.

Enigmatic night,
Weary satellite's SOS light,
Mysteries at dark.