Softness Of The Late-Night Mind...

Softness Of The Late Night Mind...

I've tried thousands of words to capture what this is.

Still these gentle fuzzy hours float like soap bubbles in a fading-to-indigo twilight sky,

Hiding behind stars and planets.

I wonder if the family Muse has dinner with my ghosts, laughing at my feeble attempts to understand emotional physics.

Is there an infinity of universes contained in a drying teardrop?

Are all the nebulae in the visible universe merely the echoes of exploded ancient dreams? What glorious ghosts they are!

If I should dream of flying through the end of everything, I want to see it all.

Softness and the blessed stillness of critical focus are gifts, the ones Prometheus was really paying for.

Paint the night with ideas; brush it softly with poetry, for the night is quiet and soft, rampant with hope and dreams.

Sleep is a starship, deep in the indigo sky.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

Super Aquarian