It Is As If It Becomes The Thing

The world rests in the night. 

Trees, mountains, fields, and faces 

are released from the prison of shape 

and the burden of exposure. 

Each thing creeps

back into its own nature

within the shelter

of the dark. 

Darkness is the ancient womb. 

Nighttime is womb- time. 

Our souls come out to play. 

The darkness absolves everything; 

the struggle for identity 

and impression falls away. 

We rest in the night.



~ John O'Donohue