Saturday, April 29, 2017

To the people who do not sleep

The people who do not sleep 
know the souls of the city 

count stars instead of sleep
match their eyes to the intensity of darkness

reflection, shadows, treetops
this is how the day dies, a light, alighting softly

light doesn't always reveal everything 
the slow-walkers can tell you how much you are missing 

the flutter of a hummingbird as it treads from flower to another 
in your back-garden while you are bent, chasing away moles

the sleepless can tell your age 
by the number of stars they have seen make a constellation in your eyes

they can lead you out of the dangers of the night 
entertained by the mad music that rustles with snoring 

they take your hand and page you through a book
chronically registering laughter and futile cats wandering the streets

blessed are those who do not sleep
for they are the time-keepers of the night 

and we, sleepers,  realize at day-break our loss.  

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