The Book Of Night Six Poem by Daniel Brick

(V)

I have no use for a blanket,
however beautifully it would
wrap itself around my Dreams.
I have Night itself to shelter me:
I am more likely to be broken or
lost than cold. I just imagine
my ancient past as a hairy beast,
grunting rather than complaining,
and immediately I feel animal
warmth rise and spread through
every joint and crevice of my body.
As for that concern of so many
waking hours, human loneliness,
the Night is older than the need
for another. Dreams themselves
vary in value since that first
dream showed Adam his future bliss
and he rejoiced in anticipation
of something utterly new. Wonders
are still borne upon the winds.
You have Night's majestic Panorama:
it has replaced both warmth and companionship.