Night Is Not
Night is not still.
It murmurs within insomniac minds
whispers of love to the loveless
speaks words to be forgotten at sunrise
sings haunting dirges in a bass voice
then laughs at your fears and follies
and falls silent with the chaos of dawn.
Night is not dark.
Darkness is an illusion
a magician's cloak closing,
hiding light within its shadows.
The lack of light does not kill light
but still reflects a potpourri—
moving water, turning leaves, mountain cliffs,
city backyards and clotheslines dancing
with wet clothes in the wind.
Night is not a beginning or end
but flows in time between last and first light.
© Frederick Fullerton