Tag Archives: poems

Night my dear, is a love affair…

Out here the night has released her curtain and let it sweep down from the skies – enveloping the world in a blue grayish daze. It is misty tonight. The lights reflect in the tiny drops, creating a hazy look. The stars won’t be seen tonight – only the lights across the sea, the sharp light in the lighthouse and the yellowish light from a single streetlamp. Otherwise, darkness. Well, maybe  just a tiny splash of moonlight – only there to let us see how dark it truly is.

At this hour poems tend to fly through my mind like lightning – it is as if my mind has been illuminated by stories, beauty, love…and nature. Nature when she is a mystery, because nothing can be seen, yet everything can be felt. As the rational day fades away, maybe we are forced to look inside? We seem to get lost in the dark alleys of the city and of the mind. We walk through the night in search of light, in search of love. We dance through the night. We talk to strangers at night – open our hearts and show what’s on the inside. Come the morning light we are once again razor sharp, pure, ready for challenges, but at night… At night we dream. We let ourselves loose. We walk into situations that in daylight would seem crazy, but at night we do not ask questions. We just let ourselves be swept off our feet. We dance along to her tune of mystery, allowing ourselves to reveal our deepest secrets, as we feel safe behind her blanket of nocturnal bliss. As if we were hidden.

Night time slows us down. You take time to do the things you would have never done in bright light. You gently sip your tea whilst leafing through a book. You have time, because what’s there to do at night, but wait for the new dawn? Even if you have a million things to do, you slow down. You adjust your pace to the night.

Dawn has always been my favorite hour – when the sky lights up in pastels, when the mind is clear, focused…when the energy of the new day awakens us, re-enlivens us and fills us with power. Adventure is lurking. People are getting ready for it, yet they do not know what they are getting ready for. Fresh scents fill the morning. Life hath, once again begun afresh.

For all my love of morning though, I cannot deny the magic of the night, or that of any hour. If you only take the time to breathe it in, each hour of the day is filled with magic. After morning there is midday – the sun a tad more yellow by now. Time for a break from duties. People talk. Laughter is shared. Food, too, is shared. Delicious foods. Every day you get to taste life. You are life and life becomes you.

Then comes the afternoon with her orangy light. The magical hour of photography, of sweet, romantic light. Everything soft. Warm. The fast pace of the day is slowing down and people ease up, relax in the glow of the afternoon sun.

In evening people are set free from their duties of the day. They feel the approaching darkness and huddle up together. Share stories from their journeys through the day. Heat up by the fire as cool winds come by. Reward themselves with meals, laughter, wine…

And then, there is night. Night of mystery and wonder. Night of dreams and secrets. Night of revelations and revealing truths. Night, when we see not the world, but ourselves and we wish to escape into the arms of someone else.

So now you know what I think like when twilight hits the world.

(Twilight is) the safest time of day for us. The easiest time. But also the saddest, in a way… the end of another day, the return of the night. Darkness is so predictable, don’t you think? – From Twilight, by Stephanie Meyer

Dreams are illustrations…from the book your soul is writing about you.  – Marsha Norman

The stars are the street lights of eternity.  ~Author Unknown

Is there not
A tongue in every star that talks with man,
And wooes him to be wise? nor wooes in vain;
This dead of midnight is the noon of thought,
And wisdom mounts her zenith with the stars.
~Anna Letitia Barbauld, A Summer Evening’s Meditation

By night, an atheist half believes in God.  ~Edward Young, Night Thoughts

Night, the beloved.  Night, when words fade and things come alive.  When the destructive analysis of day is done, and all that is truly important becomes whole and sound again.  When man reassembles his fragmentary self and grows with the calm of a tree.  ~Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

The night sky is a miracle of infinitude.  ~Terri Guillemets

It seemed to be a necessary ritual that he should prepare himself for sleep by meditating under the solemnity of the night sky… a mysterious transaction between the infinity of the soul and the infinity of the universe.  ~Victor Hugo

Sensations

On the blue summer evenings, I shall go down the paths,
Getting pricked by the corn, crushing the short grass:
In a dream I shall feel its coolness on my feet.
I shall let the wind bathe my bare head.

I shall not speak, I shall think about nothing:
But endless love will mount in my soul;
And I shall travel far, very far, like a gipsy,
Through the countryside – as happy as if I were with a woman.

Arthur Rimbaud
March 1870.

Night time in Paris…the city of light…

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