The world at one o'clock is stars poking through wisps of cloud
Knowing you'll regret this at your 10a.m. tomorrow (today?), but you're simply too alive to sleep now.
A caffeine buzz from the latte you probably shouldn't have drunk.
Fingers tapping against the keys, as if your ideas will disappear without immediate attention. Ideas are needy like that.
The world at one o'clock is a music that doesn't need speaking.
Silent sweetness.
Climbing into a warm bed.
Everyone is asleep. And you really should be too.
If you're awake, you should be doing something productive at least. Right?
Wrong.
Midnight is not an hour to be productive. Midnight is magic and velvet and glitter in the sky and the earth settling into place and all is well, all is well, and all will be well.
The world at o'clock is that times ten.
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