Softness Of The Late Night Mind...

Softness Of The Late Night Mind... 

I've tried thousands of words to capture what this is.

Still these gentle fuzzy hours float like soap bubbles in a fading-to-indigo twilight sky,

Hiding behind stars and planets.

I wonder if the family Muse has dinner with my ghosts, laughing at my feeble attempts to understand emotional physics.

Is there an infinity of universes contained in a drying teardrop?

Are all the nebulae in the visible universe merely the echoes of exploded ancient dreams? What glorious ghosts they are!

If I should dream of flying through the end of everything, I want to see it all.

Softness and the blessed stillness of critical focus are gifts, the ones Prometheus was really paying for.

Paint the night with ideas; brush it softly with poetry, for the night is quiet and soft, rampant with hope and dreams. 

Sleep is a starship, deep in the indigo sky.

AquarianM

By:  Daniel A. Stafford

© 02/27/2026

Softness of the Late-Night Mind

The Lost Worlds Of The Elder Geek...

 

Elder Geek

How he longs for the soft internet of the nineties,

When ads were still around the borders of the page,

As un-moving as concrete in the Human jungle.

Wild and free was that West.

A search query brought up obscure pages from bloggers you never heard of,

Delights from the quiet corners of the Earth,

The hopes,

Dreams,

Poetry,

Wonders of the quiet night,

In it for the long read,

Un-disturbed,

Notification-free,

Just a mind and its screen,

A universe of innerspace,

Innocence lost.

The web has gone from sweet young chaos of discovery to bot-splatted distractory hell.

The worlds of wonder that we have lost,

One could weep for it,

If two ad videos and ten notifications didn't block their tear ducts with distractium.

AquarianM

By: Daniel  A. Stafford

(C) 12-06-2025