Night - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
Night deepens each forest brown to the hues that are my soul-song.
The night expands as black angel wings, protecting earth as she dreams.
On this night the natural black hugs the stars as a mother to her newborn.
Into the night, the ashen night, of a billion stars both exploded and living, into the serendipity of duality that is our shared existence, is both futility and eternal hope, the road that belongs to immortals.
Upon this Lunar New Year, amid the wintry air, beneath the noble starry-black, we observe the beauty of the moon. She graces Earth's sky to glow equally for all, a picture in light as if created by love.
When the night comes, look heavenward and be willing to see that the stars still shine; for the dawn will come.
"We are the fireworks in this velvet dark, the blaze that dares to light up the night."
In the serenade of the black, the stars are a choir; they are lights that sing in infinite patterns. Sometimes eyes need music, and the darker the night the sweeter the song.
The sky was black tranquility married to a poetry of stars. It was the softness that called body and brain to rest and let the heart go to its steady rhythm. Night came as a reward of sorts, a restfulness above to calm the soul.
The night was a special kind of blackness, the kind that wants only to hold the stars and help them to shine all the brighter. It was a warm black that hugged you no matter what, and within it's safety I could feel my own soul all the more clearly, that innocent inborn spark.
The black night holds me close until the dawn, always my cloak until I am ready for the dawn. It is that friendly blackness that allows my eyes to rest and let my dreams take centre stage.
The pure black of the night is my comfort, the blanket of generous velvet that keeps me safe. It is the pure black that makes the moon so beautiful, that makes a stage for her to stand upon. It is the pure black of the night that gives the stars their beauty, and in it my heart is safe, my soul serene.
In the night I am as the flora of nature, alive and unseeing, existing only as myself. With eyes closed I am at home and the blackness around is my cocoon, a place in which my dreams may flow freely. So, as the moon and stars shine above the passing clouds of ink, as the air releases the heat of the day, my brain conjures a new movie for my inner eye.
The road is midnight under the cloud, yet beyond is the dawn. As the sun sets, its rising is already promised to the land, to the green shoots who wait in faith. And so, even though our eyes may only see one step at a time, we stride on, eyes wide. For when this passes we will be as children, giggling at the imagined monsters that once kept us in such fear.
The night rides in on a horse of pure midnight velvet, beckoned by the stars under a the glow of a full moon. As the colours of the day rest, perhaps dream of the morrow, the hillside becomes its monochrome beauty, shapes that make an ever-changing, ever-present puzzle, question and answer united. In this night we all become one, from rock to plant to animal, one promise of life awaiting the return of the sun.