The Pull of Night.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

A poem examining the experiences particular to night: the way the play of light and darkness covering our nighttime world's can sometimes give our activities their thrills, but also their threat,
as all can be acted out in the dark corners that night creates, and by the worst among us. But as individuals also, it can draw forth the worst in us all. The poem does not assert that at night we
must be terrible, but more it gives warning of the dangers that exists in the excessive indulgence in night times peculiar pleasures.

Submitted: June 05, 2018

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Submitted: June 05, 2018



The Pull of Night.

The Stars glistening, full, brightly, churn Imaginations fervid motions,

though here alone I sit, as usual, here alone, here nightly.

But Attentions' eye, can in ponderous movements stir,

yet with Patients' interventions, can add one hundredfold more to serve.

Ah, but here the cloud-shawled question, which round reason whirls:

to stir to what purpose, what end?

None but to plant mesmerisms in imagination, and there to blooming grow?

And this, this the only offering where once there was a friend?

But no, no questions to ask, for intellects' prying, though thorough, though complete,

can so much arid puzzling end with, and without a kindly friend to meet.

But the pull, as sitting alone and quiet, at that dark end of a day's span,

can give such promise, such excitation, that Resistance barely can withstand.

Yet the difficulty here's not Night Time's imaginings' but the absence it's temptations fill.

For despite sparkling promises, It's sweet raptures, it does dulled leave, with a cool hearts chill.

So I'll take myself, when sun's full-rising, to wander this town's lit morn,

seek the buds of friendships hand, with open hearted warmth,

and find a place in light of day, in the multitudes of man.

Nights are for dreaming within our sleep.

But caution we must bring, when caught are we in wakeful-night's dreams.

Else, as if down a well darkly, we may find ourselves, too alone, too cold, too deep.

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