It’s Quiet

At the quietest hour it escapes from darkness’s possession

Its anonymity helps find the passage toward the everyday ritual

Waiting to feel that cosmic spark, to ignite with benevolent light

From the embrace of life and sleep and frolicking dreams

A serpentine demarcation between reality and illusion

In a fetal position, life wakes up from another conscious separation

Into the most peaceful world, wordless, without worldly desires

Emotions rush toward the bosom like eager waves across a calm ocean


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