… and

… and overnight, the world grows cold and still, and only moth wings beat the rhythm of sleep.

… and the moon drapes silvered shrouds o’er life, transforming commonplace.

… and in occluded shadows, the unseen people congregate and search for what they’ve lost.

… and violence is done.

… and love is spilled.

… and the cry of a million dreams embraces heaven.

… and an old man smiles in his youth.

… and there, in all my darkest hopes, I leap at each fairy-lit crack in time.

… and all my lives are stirred within me

… and the winds of reverie shake loose his crushed desires.

… and for a brief lifetime the city is mine.

… and he shucks off his imagined bonds, transcending even himself.

… and still the hearts surrounding me speak quiet and true and mark each heavy breath.

… and overnight the dark speaks truth, and false reality slumbers.