Brief Pleasures of the Night

Some flowers bloom well into twilight, the dark does not assault them it folds gently, it entices, it allows flowers to succumb but for a little while. How unlike is the glaring light? How it enslaves and pinions each reaching stem and then killing with a fiery eye, while the desires of the night shine as bright for all beings. We who stand mesmerized by daylight, do we not yearn for the coverlets of darkness, the secrecy of sequestering shadows? Those brief nocturnal depths that bloom in the unseen, our sanctuary of pleasures far from the dazzle of lights shallow show.