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By darwin Date: 2006 Mar 10 Comment on this Work [[2006.03.10.19.19.11505]] |
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Night falls softly, this time. With the light radiating from the windows, turned to gold in the fading sun. It seems to whisper now, with memories and words that have passed. But they remain, for years; they hang in rooms like dust that doesn't know where to go. And it knows the lovers that once gathered there, and believed in promises yet to come. But night, it remembers, and falls for all the nights that we have forgotten. For the tears that it has seen and tried to soothe in its dark blanket, that we all hope to hide under once in a while. The restless souls it sheltered, on the nights that are too long, on broken lovers hearts. The lovers who dream of days to come, the night holds its seedling of hope that things will come to be once again. It holds the feeling of joy, of lives yet lived, and that pregnant poignant moment that seems to be the most fecund of all. And lovers can't pinpoint it, ever. But it seems to come for them mostly when night falls. It's when hope perpetuates, and lovers flower, and fall into each other when found. It's the nights that knew the heart of weary travelers more than it did worn tires on the road. It carried them then, when there was no other light to lead the way. And they know it now, harboring the tender minds of those who are yet too young to know. And it's grown and bloomed inside the minds of those who have weathered the years. Its fertility is beyond conception; it has launched ships, started battles, and ended lives too quickly. But it's always there to hold us, from storms, from life. But tonight, it falls softly. And in it too, I fall into my lover's arms. |