Night and Day
Is there any difference more stark than that between night and day?
Roads quite familiar bathed in light, become foreign and a touch foreboding.
Innocent footsteps become a powerful stimulus.
Pleasant shade becomes a secretive shadow.
Is it any wonder our mothers tell us to stay in at night?
Night is a blanket of mystery to one such as I.
Highways are lit by floating spirits who guide the way.
The canvas of sky exchanges hands.
Light becomes an oasis - rare and coveted.
Even the bit of light on the ceiling as I lie in bed is captivating.
Perhaps it's not so surprising then that dreams come at night.
For it is in the cover of shadow that solitude comes naturally.
In my brief respite from the pressures of society,
I forget for a while what I think is real or possible.
Am I allowed that much at least?
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