The purest blue, always
swallows the white speckled night.
And in the dusky shadow hour
night strangles the day to black.

Though we should be more kind
to the night, instead of the accusation of murder
No murder was carried out.
Only a day was moved forward.

Yet, it was a crime, I was push
Forward, not against a train but life.
Running the rail of air. for the steel one
Are misplaced by thoughts?

And then again, aren't we all
being pushed. When the pure need
is to take one step back and breathe.