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The night

The night, It stretches,
Across the sky, a blanket,
An Abyss of endless darkness.

Pricks of light puncture the black,
Stars, they are called.
Small, but majestic.

I, we, us,
Insignificant beings,
Under this void.

Time, it passes,
It is never and now,
It is nowhere and everywhere

Even so, we stay,
On this ground,
We are calm.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content


Beautiful poem, wonderful thoughts. This void goes on and on. True - how small we are and how endless is the darkness. Mind boggling and mysteriously hopeful.
Thank you!

lovely you gave us much to consider


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Hi B6, welcome to Neopoet family. First time I've read your poetry. It's philosophical and makes one meditate on things beyond our power to change.
I like your title, the theme and your spacing. I don't think we're all calm, what with the state the world is in now. Maybe, someday, they'll be a cure for Covid, but we've passed the tipping point on climate change.
So I'm neither calm nor hopeful, but appreciate your poem fully.
All the best, Gracy

"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

I can't help but feel as though describing the night as both a blanket and then, immediately following, as an "abyss of endless darkness" creates a conflicting feeling. To me at least, blankets don't feel abyss-like.
I like the description of the night as a blanket that stretches over the sky. and I really enjoy the line that describes the stars as "pricks of light that puncture the black."
In your third stanza, the iteration through "I," "we," and "us" plays well. I feel like it helped emphasize your point.
I am not sure about your title, as your poem seemed to move beyond speaking on the night.
The final line of the poem, "we are calm," is wonderful. love that


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