The empty night is full of thoughts
They spill from shadow-lands
The ‘what-have-beens’ and what-are-nots’
Each vie for sole command
Of this great ship upon a sea
Without limit or form
As future-fear and memory
Clash in a silent storm
The empty night is full of naught
But moments as they flow
Not through our hands but through our thought
…the little that we know
And in its gaping quietness
How keen our thoughts recall
The hastening tide we curse and bless
Within its rise and fall
© Janet Martin
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I hope you enjoyed your pause on this porch and thank-you for your visit!