perchance to dream
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Mother Night
by Mir-Yashar Seyedbagheri




The night welcomes me, dusk’s lavender curtains opening tenderly.   Moon smiles, luminous mother moon. She dries tears after tears, banishes the words lodged in my souls:   Drifter. Dreamer.   Senseless writer.   Irresponsible. Words uttered by a man with a mustache, a bald head like a demonic fetus.  Night asks no questions.   Night invites me to dream, floating upon wisp-covered clouds on gossamer wings, under mother moon’s luminous smile.   I’ve wondered why it asks no questions.   Can it not see my flaws?   Is it not bothered?  It never answers.  I dream on, content with somnolence and love.



a line, (a blue one)


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