(Photo by John Fowler)
When sleep blesses the world with wisdom,
Day takes back his light;
Life begins in my kingdom,
With alluring magic comes Night.
She moves by
In her royal robes.
She always has her head held high,
And she perfumes herself with hope.
She conceals the erupting passion,
She creates space for fate.
Her mystery is her fashion,
She is Dream’s dearest mate.
She lends death a hand,
To Life, she favours a kiss.
Her sigh sweeps dark the land,
The sky is lighted by her hiss.
At times she is a beautiful fairy,
Fair and good till she switches;
With a spell secret and scary,
She is the terrifying cruel witch.
Fears cuddle up all the day long,
Night: The fearless Tempest,
Feeds on faith, mighty and strong.
She harbours activity, she shelters rest.
I in silent sobs have cried in her arms.
In violent whispers, we have often conspired.
She has trapped me in, taught me her charms.
She has filled my heart with courage, my soul she has inspired.
When day in shiny success,
Takes the unfair pride.
Night seeking nothing in excess,
Keeps me company in low ride.
I flower with each dying day.
I grow with each nourishing night.
Just as the world lives in the deteriorating day,
And each dies with redeeming night.
(Pallavi D. Patel)