i love the quiet hours

pale beach or soft lamp light

i slow down until the sound can’t catch me

so slow you couldn’t see me

while they sleep without dreams

while they dream of being normal

i gather light from the stars

stars, you shine? light is time

time is light moving towards us

having let go already of that old life

or, each star is a life being lived

everything we see has happened, as it happens,

we reflect and plan, stars are

‍until they are not

we go dark some day

but a little bit every day will keep you humble and hungry for that quiet place

between the dark and the light

when it’s too beautiful to look

when no one answers

so you have to live with those thoughts

true. true. still.

maybe it will all get forgotten

maybe apocalypse is a chaos of memory

and if so, if so, why remember, anyway

only memories make a case for it

only the smallest snapshots

and really, only a handful, two

but the gift has no boundaries

spills through fingers

always unexpected, all that vicious feeling

we’re all accidents, walking,

late for purpose.

man, if we weren’t miracles.

i love the quiet hours

no cars pass, the walkers are silent

involved in secrets guided by their soft bellies

singing internal songs that cannot be translated

cannot be measured or placed in a rhythm

in the quiet we shift into freedom

a memory

a fantasy

a structure to our sentience

a longing that seems familiar

what we mean by love

you’re free, you make me feel free

not to run but to rest

not to get lost, but to stay found

not to root but to unfurl into the earth

not to reach but to remember

we have to ‘wait till the midnight hour’

that’s all we ever need to know