Breadth of the Night
written by: Anu Shrestha
I lean into the glass,
and the world spills past me —
a blur of wheezing lights, broken sounds,
a thousand hurried lives stitched into the dark.
Yet beyond it all,
there is a breath —
not of air,
but of something older, deeper, unseen.
It drifts through the pane,
a ghost of the night,
whispering not in sound but in feeling,
a hush so heavy it presses against my skin.
I wonder,
is it the darkness sighing into the world,
or is it my own heart,
tired, hollow,
exhaling into the silence?
Outside, the city gasps and blinks and wheels away.
Inside, I drift—
between what is real
and what only my soul can hear.
A wind that isn’t,
a sound that never was,
yet I float within it,
weightless and unseen.
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