Black as--the centre of an eye, the centre, a blackness
that sucks at light. I love your vigilance.

Night, first mother of songs, give me the voice to sing of you
in those fingers lies the bridle of the four winds.

Crying out, offering words of homage to you, I am
only a shell where the ocean is still sounding.

But I have looked too long into human eyes.
Reduce me now to ashes--Night, like a black sun.

― Marina Tsvetaeva Tweet