In Zeppelin's dream
monsoon lovers in cocoon ecstatic kaboom
Have you considered the owl?
Excluded from days like a diabetic warned off fudge Is the carob of night enough? Sure, it’s dark, possibly smooth and those tasty rodents move there But look at the day with a head that can turn right round you’d see every rotten thing Every bad stroke and selfishness, every creaky knee and thumb in clarity, loud Oh to be the owl
we learn to navigate the darkness
learn to let it seep through our souls that way it's no longer unnerving it's comfortable and beautiful
the beauty of being nocturnal is one i wouldn't trade for anything
I chose you
Like the butterfly Chose the sun. Like the moth is Nocturnally drawn To the moon And any other Illuminated illusion. Frenetically chasing In a trance-like dance, We wade through Day and night Like winged creatures. Expressive messengers, Speaking a language In metaphor Available to all Who can hear Symbols and scriptures Written by an architect Keen enough on details To give day and night Its doting darlings.
Morning sun comes
Nowhere to hide with the lights around, Always waiting for the night.
This goes out to all the nocturnal animals, who are at one with themselves only at night.
Flowers are the earth's fruit
Which await the sun's permission To beautify and ripen And at night may serve As guiding lanterns floating atop Their mother thorns To gently lead the moon oceanward.
Put me under the spell of maur night,
Let me sip from the drinks of celestial gods, Lighten me on a sky-bed of heavenly stars, When receiving the offerings of nocturnalight. Cover my body with holy rays, songs of praise, Adoring dreams dressed in golden sheepskin, Happily grazing on faith’s meadow spreading The noble fragrance of sweet-bitter laurel. Let me sleep in nocturnal goodness tonight. Let me sleep in nocturnal goodness ... Let me sleep ... Sleep ... Sip ... S ...
Have a sweet sleep baby all your life ...
tedious tardy sleeps are the latest commodity
my advisor‘s eulogized, though I have dealt with it for as long as ever. since I do that exceedingly well. just once I’d wish to sink into bed, shut my eyes for a shielded moment, and find myself revived afterwards. perhaps my life is too cluttered with uncertainties, so my bedlam body unlearned to be happy. instead, a high demand of despondency is expected to be appeased by the insomniac stakeholders of my remains.
Thanks for reading.