Absolute marquise of the sky and the firmament, the Night takes refuge in the soft solemn silence of her harp, inside the infinite space that she covered with her black and sterile angelic wings.
In the dark sleep that she had lived within, perpetual and woven with nightmares, she sometimes dreamed of a companion who could deliver her from her loneliness.
One night, Night had a dream. And how sorrowed she was when she realized, that light and warmth were forbidden to her.
From her eyes filled with tears, two drops of light began to flow. She took them delicately and wrapped them in her silk dress that she kept for the winter, to rock them tenderly.
The first tear transformed into an immense opaque and milky pearl, that she called Moon.
The second tear, however, burst into a thousand and one sparkling sequins, that she called Stars.
Night, thus, had her warmth, and her light.
(Take care of yourselves <3)
YOU ARE READING
No title, just words
PoetryAnd what if we could rewrite our story? ... An anthology of some nighttime reminiscences and thoughts.. poetry and short stories.
