Nuit Blanche and the Breath of Toronto

Saturday night I had the opportunity to go to Nuit Blanche – an all-night art event in Toronto. While I’m not sure if I would do it again, it was definitely a good experience, and here are some thoughts I collected along the way. Who knew that poetry at 3 am could make sense…

Breath

We breathe a thousand aching ways
When night replaces endless days
And sunsets turn the air to gold
Inside these thoughts we steal to hold
Our breath tells tales of mist and might
And in the dawn of dim street-light
We drink of night itself and air
Of coffee, smells, and darkness there
The hues we hold are wind and smoke
And paint with every waving stroke
A breath that speaks of sharpened tales
The sweet, sweet smell of city rails
And city streets with silver lights
Amidst the suns of moon-lit nights
Where we still breathe our lives away
And from our perfect planning stray

Which is alright since we believe
The night to praise as well as grieve
And daylight to its promise hold
Of sleep, of rest, of sunshine gold

There are more lines than we could write
Or read within this single night
But here it ends, the night still long
And we, with aching feet, walk on

M.
Oct 4/15

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