The night is young

The night is young.

Like an arrow off its bow, lightening towards its target.

Like the feather falling to earth, swayed by the wind.

Like the river, kissing all the crevices as it races to meet the ocean.

Like I exist, as the breathing reassures. Like the silence, song cast by no words.

The mind, lightening, swaying, kissing, breathing, singing...awakens the night. The night laced by the rays of benign light, here and there, graced by the fireflies.

Fireflies, the ideas of the mind.

A mind that adapts the stance of the water, adept like an arrow but swaying when the time casts its spell, yet determined to hit the earth before the rain showers.

A mind racing to meet the infinite ocean, alive, humming and singing.

The mind awakens the night, for the night brings meaning to eyes the benign light penetrates.

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