It is darker earlier.
It is darker later.
In between is red.
Red like the ever rising
ever setting sun,
like the air, like blood,
like red ink on black paper.
We cherish the red.
We play in it.
We cherish the dark.
We sleep in it.
We are born in red, squalling.
We die in dark, gasping.
In both it rains and rains and rains.
A. Bracanovich
It is darker later.
In between is red.
Red like the ever rising
ever setting sun,
like the air, like blood,
like red ink on black paper.
We cherish the red.
We play in it.
We cherish the dark.
We sleep in it.
We are born in red, squalling.
We die in dark, gasping.
In both it rains and rains and rains.
A. Bracanovich