Each divine, passing night

Each divine, passing night

Whether the quickly-fading darkness brought a delicate rejoicing,
 or instead longing and introspection,
as I sit and wait for the sun’s warm embrace,
I think not of the memories I’ve made.

Perhaps I reminisce on a conversation,
on the traces in my mind of a now fast-asleep companion,
or on the way that - in that dark and surreal moment in time - only I could ever feel;
I’ve chosen to have a moment that can be mine alone. 

While others are sleeping my thoughts still breathe life into me.

For a brief moment, I find myself lost in the last few ethereal hours that are now dying,
caring not in the least for the morning that will accompany the sun.
Yet still the rising of the ever-present flame will soon quiet these impassioned thoughts, 
and just as quickly I’ll succumb to slumber.

The sun rises, and its light washes away my cherished, divine escape,
its power lifts from me these temporary feelings, and leaves behind my now-undying memories.
As memories were, after all, made.

I’ll awaken the next day to the emotions having since passed,
but the memories will still remain.
And when darkness once again reclaims its rightful throne,
the feelings will come right back again. 

Nicholas DuVal