I was inspired to write it by how I find that my efficiency sometimes increases in the nighttime and how I feel that, occasionally, my writing and my inspiration to write comes more freely to me then. The poem itself was written in the night, something which hopefully reflects in the poem itself. I use light imagery and fire imagery in contrast to the darkness associated with night to try and communicate how the idea of being enlightened in a poetic sense translates into something that happens in the darkness of the nighttime and not the literal light of the daytime. That's not to say that darkness is entirely associated with night; the light of the moon is something I appreciate as well, and I have written poetry about this in the past also.
Night
It's
all at night when the true magic happens.
When
the rays of light wobble and bounce off each other, bundling, forming,
creating.
When
the flames form and lick at the heels of Destiny.
When
streams of light ignite the fight, fuel the might, singe the fright.
When
pulsating forms of pure passion speak tongues and scream ideas to the solemn
spirit.
When
the grinding gears stop, think, and are then blinded by fits of flames, bursts
of bewilderment.
When
empty castles stand, flaming, stones heated up with the fires of displaced
ferociousness.
When
the very being strives to drive closer to complete itself, a fire for the
extinguishing of the most undesirable flame ever.
When
perceptions prescribe portions of power to particular people.
When
the icy depths of that which is claimed thaws under its own sudden heat and
dances under the moonlight through the window, careful not to wake all that is
outside.
When
the mind bubbles with its own juices, inspiration kindles the flame of its own
creation and the light of day is allowed on at night.
It's
all at night when the true magic happens.
