Of the Night that was before the Day.
Day has changed,
yet the night stayed same,
That day I have changed,
yet the night stayed cold and bitter.
For how could I ever dare,
to dream of a night warm and nice,
Thus being four in the morning,
rather than four at night?
What have We come to,
the day be-fore this one?
The night before that sunrise,
before that day we saw next,
Thus was that a spark,
the moment that day… a spark?
Or was it? this spark,
the tingle a miss? were we hopping to miss (it)?
Thus us two as singled (out)
as fingers with no hands, no arms.
Thus fingers with no feeling?
thus touch with no conviction?
That touch, accident and yet,
not random and yet persistent,
Those feelings avoided,
yet welcomed in our heads!
Thus hearts locked away,
held by those doors, this pounding…
That night which could turn
into this day, this night.
That moment which couldn’t
hold its own in the light…
Of that day, this night, and that
morning…