This...
These small hours...
When the laughter goes to sleep
And the voices fade away
And the yearning creeps in
Squeezes the soul
And buries it's claws deep inside
Longing... for the next day, the next words
This...
The waiting...
The missing...
The mind keeps playing stop motion pictures
The fingers keep painting by memory
So they have something to touch
When they reach into the nothingness...
This...
The feelings...
The beauty...
The "here" and "there" together
The shadows dancing under the misty street lights
Hand in hand, as if they were never apart
The little sparkly thread, that no one dared to follow before
Entangling misfits and shaping them into magical tapestry
The roads...
The Moon...
Writing a story
Slowly...
With a pen made of stardust
It flickers and sparkles, writing of happiness and joy
Here...
A new page...
Desiring to be written on
Days and nights passing by
It aches for the stardust to be sprinkled on it again
Calls them:
"Dreamers,
You, lost in the mystical of the night
Come together again, light some candles
With your purity
Leave no key unturned, no door unopened, no feeling untouched
And fill this...
Emptiness..."
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