Silent Indigo


I always wonder what it’s like to be an ocean at night.

Does the day flee with the sun so the moon can have time with the water? I’ve seen the moon kiss the ocean before.

Does the ocean reflect the stars, or do the stars dive into the murk along with the moon?

Do fish sleep, or do they greet the moon with the swish-swash of their fins?

Do the sea and sky love each other like the trees love the earth: deeply rooted and forever?

Or do they love each other like my parents love each other: through gritted teeth and glasses of wine?

There’s this moment of complete darkness, in between the sun falling and the moon rising. There is not enough light dripping from the remaining sun to illuminate your eyes, and the shy stars are still hiding in the folds of the sky.

That moment of complete quiet, complete silent indigo, that is what it is like to be an ocean at night.

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