I slip into the night's armor
finding vacant folds
to rest the senses in over drive,
make for due presence
a comfort zone
for heart's on the fence
needing this space alone.
Meditation with no loud
ticks addressing its passing is cleared.
And with this silent peace covering
any chill that could enter
somehow, will not be forsaken.
What really matters this testament
not to be swept away and forgotten.
The stars in concerto at arm's length
keep eternal, keep night light running.