Bozhidar Pangelov Poet Free verse

That Is Another Night

That 
 is another night. 
 Of the fingers, 
 of the silent stars that 
 are dying out. 
 One 
 by one. 
 Of the primordial waters, 
 when 
 the words are uttered. 
 That is another night, 
 where we know each other 
 and we are. 
 Different. 
 The fingers. 

 One hand 
 that 
 someone is holding out to us.

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Richard Lamoureux December 22, 2012 at 7:17 PM I like this poem, there is a lot more here than meets the eye. Also intresting how you organized your thoughts and flow of words.