Genre: Nocturnal, Atmospheric, Night Shift
At Night
by Anton M. Rojkov
At night
When most bright colors retreat,
Stillness regains control
Over moving parts of the world.
Eyes miss details,
Hearing catches ghosts talking,
And I watch my skin
With more attention,
Finding myself fascinated
With blood streaming steadily
With bones cracking.
I wonder of grass breathing,
Springs running toward eternity,
Of a warm cup of tea
In a quite shop.
Peering into the dark,
Listening to the air moving
In no hurry, with no care,
As it always does,
But only now I notice.
At night
I want serene things,
Just like shadows swim
Through the streets
And rocks whisper by the bushes.
Working night shift shows so much beauty
In the non-human world
That I rarely witness.
At night
There are so many things
I think of doing during the day.
Then it arrives,
First lights break through.
Those who slept are awake
Stillness seems to be
Progressively beaten into pulp,
While movement
Is the only way to go, once again.
Colors creep in
But small details I cherished
Somehow fade away
Into the war walls of sound
That mash in,
Proclaiming silence an anathema.
Attention and speed
Are now object of worship
And constant reinvention.
Then endless hours
Of rush and rock and roll
Come to slowing down.
The sun is out to shine elsewhere
And stillness is back to amaze me.
I’ve been waiting
To hear rocks whisper by the bushes
In the calm of the air
Breathing on my shoulder.
I’m thinking of so many
Quiet and slow things to do,
Lost in the calm and dark of the night.
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