The Night
Do not fear that which betrays us The splendor we see is not left to deceive We revel, we regret, we move forth into the firmament at the edge of darkness Our life a mirror, a glass pane, clear ice Our thoughts like butter to be spread And all along we go outside into the æther Into our greatest disregard for normalcy Into the breakwater cutting like a pier Like the long thin silence between marks Like the quietest strokes of night before dawn This may be our greatest moment, our sunrise The willow wrapped in fabric and bent back not breaking under its weight and purpose but bending into the starlight— head back, arms high, ready to embrace the night that calls us still
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