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In the White of Night

As in the crystal clear of day, I can hear voices far away or sounds of children at their play, in the white of night, as still as light, for all the differences there have been, whatever chasms lie between: words that begged silence that did not come; silences that went unheeded that pleaded, clearly needing words, it seems to me, one to another, we cross a thought bridge to each other.