ME AND THE NIGHT MOON

I always wonder why the night is not just for sleep? It would be normal, the rest of body and mind, but as the poet said: "Night is the mother of thoughts and in silence it brings us all memories of the past, the good and bad times, the loves lived and not lived. , suffered, of the desired loves, the hardened and separated loves, the dreamed and unfulfilled loves, the lost and most found loves, the peaceless buried loves and never forgotten by those who are sworn to die of love ... "

The night reminds me of the disillusioned passions, the drowned, rejected passions, the misunderstood, the tender passions, all too much lost in time. Night brings fear of people's fragility, fear of loneliness, brings the cold of tortured and uninhabited hearts.

The cold of the night leads us to read a book, where in its context, you find yourself there, somewhere ... some page, in any sentence, in any sentence even from the past ...

Calm night with rain and wet streets, melancholy behind the reflection of the lights on the asphalt, the dew fogging the windowpane, the longing for warmth, the friendly hug, hand in hand to warm, the look in the eye without the need for anything tell.

If it's hot, summer, brings us the scent of flowers, the desire to see the starry sky, changing star shooting, the full moon, majestic coming out between clouds clearing the immensity, to love, to go around breathing all this beauty, to embrace the nature of meeting friends to dance and to find that despite all life can be wonderful, so wonderful, remembering lived moments, the moments often divided with problems, persecutions, victories and stories told to the ear. that lead us to tears followed by smiles, tight hugs with so much emotion that leave marks on body and heart.

But the night leaves signs on the faces of those who have cried too much, who are looking for a safe haven to shelter, a heart to inhabit.

When finally tiredness overcomes us and the body rests inert, then come the dreams that remind us of things that are dormant in memory, which we keep there because we don't want to remember or suffer, but why remember? Is that after all worth dreaming? for you live in dreams, you live in waiting, you live in love.