If night was a silent killer
or a final sleepin pill
painless
it would have been easy
it would have been sudden
it would have been sad.
If night was a vampire hanging upside down from the branch of a burnt tree
it would have been ghastly and fearful.
But night is a blue mystery in her eyes
and night is a million echoes from other worlds
and it is understandably incomprehensable
and it is joyfully like the existence of lost love in the drops of rain.
