Night

Night rolls out his lightless robe
and with one snap of his wrist
sends down his sweet, dark kiss.

I lie beneath its numbing spell
vulnerable, detached, torpid,
cast aside in spite of me.

Still, I am, am not, floating;
no solid ground beneath my feet,
no real control, just dreams.

Night rolls up his satin sleeve
and with one snap of his wrist
dissolves his listless mist.

Yet, his silent telling still exudes
from the breath of my waking,
reminding me once again
that I am not
my own
but
His
!

Petra O. Hefner
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