I find myself alive at night
When others are in bed, all lights off
I listen, and think, and write
I find myself in the darkness
I find what was hidden by daylight,
Masked by mundanity
An ether opens itself
When in sleep are those around me
A part of me pities
That which they are missing
The living night which those who sleep early
Will not know, cannot know
The magical time of silence
Of solitude and reflection
My mother always called me Night Owl
And said, the early bird catches the worm
But what do owls eat?
A much more substantial meal, to my mind
Than a simple worm.
