Be a good vampire
and be sick of the sun for once.

It's also good to be smitten by darkness.

Like when we appreciate the shade
wallowing beneath the acacia,
or the dim brief rain for its cooling pour.

At night we bank our sleep
cultivating dreams,
we pause our animating
until we are grateful for waking.

Mystery is its element, a cause for imagination.
We invent legends
and the deer and elm become
something else. Inheriting our potentiality.

Furthermore, we have reasons
for inexposure.

Even broad daylight falters with its intent.

But it doesn't mean detesting brightness
for most things are a spectrum of sorts.

On one hand we are but a glimmer breathful with life.
On the other, the body is opaque,
dense with sentiments,
so much that light cannot get through to love.

© Mav P.