the quiet of the wee hours
the hours after all obligations have ended
and most humans have already gone to sleep —
those are the sacred hours for many a theatre-maker/
artist/
performer/
writer/

night-owl —

i used to worship at the feet of
two
and three am

but something changed in my internal workings;
was it a global pandemic?
or some genetic sleeper cell that had been waiting
all along to detonate?
or a combination of happenstance and physiology
all in one?

i can no longer own the title night owl

i am solidly
early
bird

i now hold in my heart my quiet, special time
of 5 and 6 and 7 am
when everyone
[and the night owls especially]
still dream in soft beds —
i am awake and working on
myself
and my own mind
and writing and writing before the world
churns again

the quiet of the wee hours
can be anyone’s,
whomever needs them

night owl

early bird

and anyone in-between

the hours can be religious in nature
or secular if you need no belief
but the sacredness comes from
inside

the sacredness comes from
what you
need