It is time,
the last tendrils of light have vanished.
It is silent,
the night noises don't rush, they hush.
It is dark,
in the way we can explore the day.
It is time,
for the final things let go, release, ease.
It is silent,
for the space, inside leave what is undone.
It is dark,
time to go inside yourself, breath, become.
It is time,
say the prayers, ask "they will" not mine.
It is silent,
as the hushed voices call night hymns.
It is dark,
sit in wonder of the stars, candles of light.
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