I have been one acquainted with the night. I have walked out in rain — and back in rain. I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane. I have passed by the watchman on his beat And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet When far away an interrupted cry Came over houses from another street,
But not to call me back or say good-bye; And further still at an unearthly height, One luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right. I have been one acquainted with the night.
Poetry · Photography · Reflection
THE HUMAN LAYER
The contemplative side of a technical mind — verse from Kashmir, landscapes shaped by light, and writing that stays close to what it means to notice.