The city lights even go blind.
The dark night remains still alive.
Everything’s getting dimmed, one by one.
It feels like it’s been happening for years.
The age-old road feels lonely
like nothing ever truly belonged to them.
I asked the leaves, “Why aren't you falling?”
They whispered, “It’s not yet time for shedding.”
Everything is calm, so tranquil.
Nothing has bothered their sleeping.
I really enjoyed that sleepless night
from high on the mountain that touched the sky.
The night was too blurry for my eyes
I couldn’t keep them open or closed.
I don’t know why.
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Comments2
The vacillation between sight and blindness between dark and light make this poem metaphoric of life itself. Nicely written
Thanks
Most welcome
There seems to be a lot of depth hidden underneath your phrases. The lines could be about a way of transition, perhaps some form of transformation. It kind of reads like going from a butterfly perspective to that of the night moth. Lots to ponder on, ty for sharing, I enjoyed the read!
Thanks, means a lot.
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