Watch the Night

[Van Canna]

Always of the night…… I will not have words to describe its contours, the angles where the colors disappear or where the emotions slowly breathe.

Emotions of night Syncopated as you listen only to the escaping breath of your heart.

This of the night, as you still grasp a hold of the last vanishing of the senses as they recede in sleep even as you feel capable of a last coherent thought.

The night is like an animal that neither knows its name nor the one of its master.

Being together with the night and to listen to the rustles of mind queries without answers that chase on _ in ambiguity, you do not know the answers but you like the questions.

And the unexpected lights that you imagine near your closed eyes. What you will do tomorrow if still the today oppresses you of longing needs?

You will need the longest night to recover strength and speed in your arms and legs ready to bolt at first appearance of an anxious predator out of the deep maelstrom of dark surrender!

But you know that it will be dawn awakening you suddenly, there is never time to rest with continuity, and the night appears to consume you slowly.


And then you reach for metal and glass in the dark as if it were part of you, the glass feels gelid; you rub the fog from your eyes and turn on a friendly light.

the familiar room seems anew, and the distances return quickly into focus. A last desire to still retain what remains of the day and an unexpected want to write in the night, of the night, of the nightscapes enveloping your soul, surrounding your senses.

You turn on the computer and you listen enraptured to the gentle rumbling, an immovable boat within your Hushed bay of thoughts, you sink the almost invisible keys and you let the words flow fast, pausing only when overtaken by a shiver rising from your naked feet and spreading heat through your legs shifting unstable on the chair that moves under you.


Randomly a music of whispers surface from your depths , and as the words are born they are offered in a dance on the screen as if they alone knew their place in cyber labyrinth.

Not to ever know what will be for you, what you will feel at first review of what you wrote just after your searching desires wane and you feel emotionally empty.

You go over quickly the string of thoughts, you recognize the pauses, remember the choice of words, the little joys that a sudden word gifted you from the depths of your creativity, enabling you to finish the sentence.

The mysterious night, the distant and melancholy sound of a train whistle, a haunted moonbeam invading your space, a full, blood dripping moon keeping vigil outside your window.

To all of us who have written, and who will write, until there is need to narrate the night.






[This message has been edited by Van Canna (edited September 20, 2000).]

[Lori]

This is probably one of the most beautiful posts I've ever read on this forum... I didn't want it to get buried so quickly.

Thank you Van for posting it - please do continue to tantalize us with your journeys of emotion.