here first. until we are there.

…maybe there are no virgins at night…

when darkness comes, we all become slaves to our own

passions, lose the charade

and become old souls.

unconsciously, we mimic the loss of light,

and things stop being so new.

strangely enough, we feel safe to go around

naked, unguarded, pure

and it is in the depth of the black

we find our freedom, our release.

our tears fall, our hearts break, our souls scream

without censure

because in the glaring sunlight

everything is bleached shallow.

we are cushioned

by the possibility of not being seen

of being swallowed by the oblivion (of the night).

it is safe here in the dark

and still.

but that ends, that always ends.

the sun always rises in the east

(the side that most of the world has

turned its back on).

every morning, we are reborn

to wear the clothes again of a virgin,

to keep the bloodied, soiled garments

of a savior who gave his life,

and pretend that the world is

a reasonable place.

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