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WRITINGS

Late...

Early morning time, it's my own time
When I walk the empty streets and listen to the night
When I lie in bed, still and quiet, I hear the night
The great silence of the night, when all is asleep
And the sounds of the night, a car coming and passing... fading
A dog barking in the distance...
It makes me think, it makes my mind wonder
Back to the early days when I felt with the night, part of the night, at one with its great silence and loneliness.
And I wonder if longings are born from loneliness
Strife for better days out of this emptiness
And if Art is an expression of deep dark feelings,
Comfort from one lone soul to another
To say "you're not alone..."

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