Nocturnal

December 9, 2016 § Leave a comment

(from night tweets, December 2016)

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And if the middle of the night

awaits for you without a dream

you feel at first relieved

because there have been nightmares.

 

You jump onto the train of darkness,

a proud hobo with a backpack of hope,

maybe the next dream will save

a loved one, or a stranger.

 

Awakenings in the wee hours,

calls from the ones far away

the families, the friends, the dead,

fears you put to sleep too early.

 

The night smells of your fresh washed hair;

animals, apes and snakes, frogs and princes

will crawl out of it at midnight.

Wait for their kisses.

 

The night is a river running west;

when the dark water gets less this side

it’s flooding with darkness the other.

Now take your day bus.

 

 

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