Night
The night is talking to itself
Again, wild arms waving at stars,
A crescent moon, and the owls
who pay homage to daylight
Brush its face so gently
The streets have vanished, now
Only the noise and bright lights,
Vivid veins revealing the city's
Heart, vital organs, extremities
Spreading into the desert
These quiet hours, like death, when
Strange thoughts haunt flesh,
Demand attention, as ignorance
Also makes demands, reduces us
To pale images in glass
On all sides the mountains,
Distant cries, the gaping mouth
Of night, teeth bared, yet its voice
Soothes the mind, lulls
The ever-present questions to silence
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