the dark of the night
The night is a still, cold place.
It is a comforting thing
To sit alone in the dark.
To stare at nothing.
To reflect upon the words of others
Inside the luxury of silence.
Motionless in a shadow
Where the moon cannot strike you
And there are no eyes to see.
Watching the houses sleep and wondering at their stories.
You have the time at last
To slow yourself to a murmur
And allow yourself –
One narrow string at a time –
To be moved this way and that,
Following fresh paths that others once had trod
Surging down long-forgotten channels...
Or cutting a new trail to a place of your own?
Then you too can put pen to paper
To draw a map
That someday will lead others to follow in your footsteps
And think themselves awake
In the dark of the night.
© mjc 12 February 2013
