Just Like The Night

By Seema Muniz

Isn't it just like the night to whisper
its secrets
when nobody is listening,
to plaster our dreams with absurdities,
when all we want is rest,
to squander on our beggared 
world its measureless riches
and set it afire,
and to laugh its screeching laugh
as we scramble
and stumble to seize and snatch, filling our tattered
soul with crumbs from eternity

Isn't it just like the night to
draw us into its embryonic poise,
only to be hurled across
cavernous chasms
skirting the back wall of reality,
where its army of demons,
and pack of angels
in patience await
to bounce us around
against the flailing walls
of our hardened self.

And, isn't it just like the night 
to steer us away from
the littleness
we grow so wont to...
and launch us onto the wild
wild sea: sans compass, sans captain,
not even the Vesper in sight;
just us and the ocean,
with all its billowy music.
...and a day slowly rising.