Where does the night
\nrest its shoulders when it sleeps?
\nPut away its wings,
\nits dark tetherings?
\nIt holds the diary of my dreams,
\nshades my prayers.
\nI walk through black snowdrifts.
\nHear flutes call soundlessly
\nin the distance.
\nThe night has rainbows.
\nI see them touch the clouds,
\nthe aurora that drapes the zenith.
\nThe night is not for the blind.
\nIt is a seascape,
\na hand that touches the face,
\nfeeling its braille, saying,
\nthank you
\nfor the truth you show me.<\/p>\n
Daylight falls in the crevices of night.
\nLike coal,
\nthat glows with an iridescent face.
\nAn ancient wizard\u2019s face of blue light
\nand ruby eyes,
\nthat see into the earth,
\nto the very bottom of the earth.
\nIt is night.
\nIt is the womb of a starless mother.
\nIt is the patience of darkness.
\nThe dream that forms its pearls
\nand gathers them
\nas dew on the leaves.<\/p>\n
Night, where the dawn
\nsleeps like a sacred child.
\nA savior born in glory.
\nA child laughing with the wisdom
\nof the earth inside it.
\nPoetry in its sweet sacraments
\nof prayer and longing.
\nGive me the coal
\nand put it on the table,
\nwhere I can see the beauty
\nof the sky without stars.
\nThe presence of the cave
\ninside the nova of the world.<\/p>\n
And then I will lay down
\nwith the night by my head.
\nWith all its possessions
\nsmiling in the face
\nof the everlasting darkness,
\nand know a light
\nbrighter than the sun.
\nThe waysides and streets
\nof forever,
\nbeginning again and again,
\nwith the offering of dawn,
\nfalling through its fingers
\nlike threads of gold<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Where does the night rest its shoulders when it sleeps? Put away its wings, its dark tetherings? It holds the diary of my dreams, shades…<\/p>\n