Still night
After the night turns still
and creatures cease
stirring in their places
of safest rest.
Like a curtain is falling,
made of silence,
keeping us separate,
split from the rest.
The Angels are not singing.
All things postponed.
Holding their breath - waiting -
as-if on-hold.
Like sitting on the hillside
over the town.
A pleasant starry night -
not warm or cold.
I consult the sleepwalker
who loves the night.
If the heavenly bodies lose their shine -
does anything remain?
He says that nature is full of beauty.
She speaks a language of hidden feeling.
The night sky still circulates with life.
It was a mystery - he couldn’t explain.
Then we looked at his sketches - shadows of the sky - ballerinas on the winds - turbulent waves in the air - and the laughter of the moon.
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