wherethenightspeaks

[wherethenightspeaks]

Midnight Note #7  Where the Night Speaks🤎

It’s a quiet night.🎻

When I read books, I feel like someone else

sometimes, as if I’m living the life of the characters.

As if I’m the heroine.

My fingers brush the pages, and in that moment,

it feels like touching another world,

like meeting a lover in the dark.

There, I feel a kind of happiness that gently captures me,

a stillness that sings softly in my chest.

The world fades.

I’m no longer here.

I could be in a quiet town under grey skies,

walking barefoot in a wild field at dawn,

or sitting beside a window, waiting for someone I love to return.

Books do that to me.

They give me lives I’ve never lived,

but I miss them as if they were mine.

Isn’t that strange?

To ache for something that never truly happened..

except on the page.

And maybe that’s what reading really is

a quiet surrender,

a borrowed heartbeat,

a place where even silence feels like home.

"Some books you read. Some books you enjoy. But some books just swallow you up, heart and soul."

"Joanne Harris"

"Reading gives us someplace to go when we have to stay where we are."

"Mason Cooley"

"A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies... The man who never reads lives only one."

"George R.R. Martin

[wherethenightspeaks]

[wherethenightspeaks]

Midnight Note #6 Where the Night Speaks 🤎

On a quiet night.

I once dreamed of holding someone in my arms.

It was a warm embrace

so warm it made my heart beat faster,

as if I were living it,

not just dreaming.

Then, in the dream,

a sudden fear came to me

the fear of waking up.

I held him tighter,

as if I was afraid he would slip away,

as if waking up would take him from me

and leave only cold behind.

So I clung to him,

and in the dream, I whispered without a sound:

“Don’t be a dream. Don’t be temporary.”

But dreams never stay.

And I woke up…

with a warmth in my chest I couldn’t name

maybe real,

maybe just a memory from sleep.

When I woke up,

I remembered a scene from a series I once watched;

a moment when the male lead was afraid to hold the girl he loved in his dream,

because he knew if he did,

he would fall even deeper.

And maybe…

I did the opposite in my dream.

I held him tighter,

knowing I would get attached

but choosing to hold on anyway.

“Hugs are the silent whispers of the soul, saying: ‘You’re not alone.’”

"Dean Jackson"

[wherethenightspeaks]

[wherethenightspeaks]

Midnight Note #5 Where the Night Speaks🤎

The night is quiet, and melodies take over my ears music that makes me dream, remember, and long.

When I listen to music, I soar through the hidden corners of my mind.

It carries me to places I thought I had forgotten..

To voices I haven't heard in years, to smiles I once memorized.

There is something about the stillness of midnight that makes every note louder, every memory softer.

As if the night itself is whispering,

"You are not alone in what you feel."

And sometimes,

it feels like the night has its own melody

one only the heart can hear.

"Each night has a song, but only the quiet hearts can hear it."

Maybe that's why I always listen more deeply at midnight,

as if the universe shares its secrets through strings and silence.

“Music is the literature of the heart; it commences where speech ends.”

"Alphonse de Lamartine"

“Where words fail, music speaks.”

"Hans Christian Andersen"

“Music can change the world because it can change people.”

"Bono"

“Melodies are the memories of the soul.”

To everyone reading this,

I wish you a night filled with melodies.

[wherethenightspeaks]

[wherethenightspeaks]

"Oh night of lovers, poets, and chanters,

Oh night of spirits, ghosts, and shadows,

Oh night of longing, passion, and remembrance.”

"Gibran Khalil Gibran"

Midnight Note #4 Where the night speaks🤎

It’s a quiet night; soft summer rain fills the air.

The scent of wet earth brings back an old kind of nostalgia.🍂

My heart longs to dance barefoot..

As if the ground is calling me,

"Come, release everything the days have buried inside your chest."

Step by step, memories slip through my fingers,

and dance with my shadow to the rhythm of the rain.

The night doesn’t speak... it listens.

It listens to the trembling of the heart, to a distant laugh,

to a quiet yearning for someone.

to hold me now and whisper, “Everything will be okay.”

And me?

I trust the night more than I trust people.

Because it doesn’t lie... it simply holds me.

[wherethenightspeaks]

Midnight Note #3 Where the Night Speaks🤎

It’s a quiet night.

I sit alone, gazing softly at the space around me.

Thoughts drift in, one after another

but one always lingers gently in my mind:

What do famous writers think about

when they write their poetry?

Does the thought arrive quickly

like a sudden spark in the dark?

Is it a gift of midnight inspiration,

a whisper carried by the silence of the night?

Do the shadows speak to them,

offering words only hearts can understand?

I wonder if they, too, sit with tired eyes and full hearts,

searching for the one line that will carry everything

they can’t say out loud.

"All these thoughts came when this poem whispered in my ear… in the middle of the night."

🍂🍂

"My lips were purified by the sacred fire to speak of love,

but when I opened my lips to speak, I found myself mute.

I used to chant songs of love before I knew it,

but when I came to know it, the words from my mouth turned into faint breaths,

and the melodies in my chest into deep stillness.

And you, people, once used to ask me about the wonders and marvels of love,

and I would speak to you and convince you.

But now, as love has wrapped me in its cloak,

I have come in turn to ask you about its paths and its virtues

is there among you anyone who can answer me?"

"Gibran Khalil Gibran"🍂🍂

[wherethenightspeaks]

Midnight note #2 Where the Night Speaks🤎

The summer heat lingers on my skin,

but my heart aches for the chill of winter.

For the way the cold air feels honest

soft, silent, and clear.

Tonight, the warmth is too loud.

It clings, it burns,

reminding me of moments that felt too heavy to hold.

And yet, I find myself yearning..

Not just for winter,

but for the quiet that comes with it.

The kind of quiet that feels like home.

Maybe the night understands.

Maybe that's why it speaks when everything else sleeps.🍂🍂

“Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth;

for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire.

It is the time for home.”

" Edith Sitwell"

“I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape

something waits beneath it; the whole story doesn’t show.”

"Andrew Wyeth"

[wherethenightspeaks]

Midnight Note #1 Where the Night Speaks

It’s midnight again.

The world is quiet, and for once, I feel like I can breathe.

This blog... it’s not for anything big. It’s just for the little things I carry in my chest when no one’s watching. The feelings that don’t fit in the daylight. The thoughts that only come alive when the night feels soft enough to hold them.

This is where I’ll write when the silence feels too loud.

Where I’ll speak, and maybe, the night will speak back.

If you’re here...

thank you for sitting with me in the dark for a while. 🤎🤎🍂