The Night Has A Thousand Eyes
The night has a thousand eyes,
And the day but one;
Yet the light of the bright world dies
With the dying sun.
The mind has a thousand eyes,
And the heart but one:
Yet the light of a whole life dies
When love is done.
© Francis William Bourdillon. All rights reserved
The Night Has a Thousand Eyes
Written by Francis William Bourdillon
This is one of my most favorite poems because of its haunting truth. I have always believed that the dark sees us, or perhaps its inhabitants do. Sitting here, imagining the thousands of eyes prickling my flesh as they stare at me from a corner, or beneath me, I get goose bumps.
They await the passage of the sun, hungry for our flesh and worse – our essence. Those eyes see what we cannot, and are governed by another nature. In the dark, we act. We play. We hide, and try not to fall into one of the pockets of the night that conceal the lost.
Worse, however, is the abyss one can fall into inside one’s own mind. There, the thousands of judging eyes never turn away, never shut, never fail to see. It is nothing to be taken on alone.
Love is the light that can drown out the night.
I think we all have this light. It starts on the inside, but grows when shared. Find it, cultivate it, hold it.
Or just read some poetry.