From the eyes of the moon – A poem

escapril day 11: not from your perspective

I watch them closely, the night people,
There’s not much else to see as the world is asleep.
They are remarkably awake for the non nocturnal,
Maybe they’re nocturnal at heart.
I watch them as they dance
And as they speak with such a tenderness
As if their words will be remembered…
And they will.
I watch them say the unsayable
And it’s almost as if this is when they are most human.
Perhaps there’s a weight to the darkness that lets out
The profoundest of thoughts with the deepest of sighs.
Their ears and their hearts are so open,
They don’t just listen, they soak in every word
And they devour the questions as much as the answers.
Their vulnerability is touchingly beautiful.

I watch their eyes and how the lights blur in front of them
And they feel the moments become memories
More than they can see them in the darkness.
And everything looks different and endlessly more exquisite to them.
I can see it in how their hearts radiate
And their eyes are open to welcoming the yet unseen,
A contrast to those who are soundlessly asleep
(they are living the dreams others are only imagining).
This is all I’ve known, I live amongst the stars and
They don’t amaze me because they’re all I ever see.
But to them,
They look up with mouths agape
As if they simply can’t believe how the sky could sparkle so,
And I am a lump of rock floating amongst twinkling lights
Yet they still look up at me with such wonderment and delight,
I bask in the admiration.

I wonder how it feels to be alone in the dusk
To be in a world that feels empty even though it’s so full,
I hear them muttering and whispering, like it’s a rush,
Like they’re not allowed to be awake.
They giggle and they tiptoe and they hold hands
And even just eating ice cream is exciting when it’s at midnight,
And I can’t help but think how brave of them it is…
My light is not strong like the sun’s
I warp the world into indistinct obscurity
But the night people let go of a need to see beyond,
They live in the moment where their feet are standing,
Even though they are blind and stepping into ambiguity,
To them it’s a mystery and all part of the escapade.

This is the world I look over,
The world in which I am shining,
I watch the night people and how their hearts tingle
And their hands slightly quake because their body wants to sleep
But their minds are awake.
There’s a contradiction in the simultaneity
Of their excitement and their ease,
I so wonder of the beauty in what the sun must see.