Night,
and every pulse held in-between hands!

Darkness and shades crisscross the world,
bracing the perfervidity among us
rural men, to witness the coming of Night.

O stars! The nebulae, the nacre-patterns of
the naked, naïve universe — Studded Witnesses —
listen:

I stand.
In me, an orgiastic mien,
straining and peering and tearing the weak
blanket-foil of the sky, to perceive the inscrutable
energy of the primitive night.