It is always at midnight hour 
that I begin to write,
amidst the creaking of settling furniture
and the stillness of a house of peaceful spirits.
On dark nights when the moon disappears
into the mouth of a hungry dragon,
the stars watch me from outside my window
from the infinite boundaries of the night sky,
searching for a trace of themselves in my work
to satisfy their celestial vanity.
As the crickets sing outside
and the lizards coldly gaze down at me
with their black, beady reptile eyes 
from their perches on the walls,
I begin to think and feel clearly,
without mist clouding my vision,
without prejudice twisting my thoughts,
warping my true feelings 
and distorting my words.
It is only at midnight hour
that I dare begin to write
my uncompromising truths.


jan the man | inside looking out