Twilight and morning are now irresistible
they hang above like motherless children
there is no reason to believe in one or the other
all the insects swarm this local abyss
fortunate, for us, all minutes randomly orbit an hour
anywhere is home, or else, unfettered lives would not be possible
reentering again a field of silences
morning or night or true or false
were all excluded
an intimate void
more or less… yours.
Beyond Language 
Thank you for confirming that, Pablo.
“all minutes randomly orbit an hour”
I had to stop and think about that one. Good for you!
And I thought it was all so orderly.
Nowhere and everywhere we feel at home.
That’s a good reason to be grateful we’re here.
i like the feeling of this….there is an acceptance.
A nihilistic acceptance, yes. That’s what is beautiful of humble nihilism. Take away the imperative of your opinions, anything is possible, anything can be true. The world opens up, no longer enclosed by the inherited veil of the centuries.
This poem seems to have no particular center… which is one of the things I really like about it! The intimate void – very nice.