into dreams dispersed, afraid of the dark,
clinging tenuously to stars?
Because we are the night, you and I
unafraid to challenge the sun's rise
once again, to throw its fiery daggers
on thirsty desert's dry sand where
stillness, defying its burn, still produces flowers.
The night contains the coyote's howl,
the hoot of the owl, the sneak of the snake,
the flight of the bat basking in moon's smile, blessing
us, nightly creatures slowly becoming relics.
Expelled by the world, we go into darkness, anonymous.
There we create our own sun, unseen by most
who can't believe in love's longevity,
because they haven't seen our heart's illumination,
stronger, now that we are the night.
(Spencer Hayes at Dverse Poets prompts us to write as tribute to a poet who inspired us. I chose to try writing like Pablo Neruda.)