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.
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