Kent, The Lovers, 1928
The world rests in the night. Trees, mountains, fields, and
faces
are released from the prison of shape and the burden
of exposure.
Each thing creeps back into its own nature within the
shelter of the dark.
Darkness is the ancient womb. Nighttime is womb- time.
Our souls come out to play. The darkness absolves
everything;
the struggle for identity and impression falls away.
We rest in the night.
John O'Donohue, from Anam Cara
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