The lights were still on in the middle of the night, and I wrote the poems of my dreams in silence.
Those inspirations, which are elusive in the daytime, flow freely under the shelter of the night.
Staying up late is a secret agreement with time, a monologue and contemplation under the moon.
Everything has slept, the world has breathed still, and only me and the night are listening to each other.
In the depths of the night, the secret words of the stars are hidden, and the whispers of the galaxy gently embrace.
The stars twinkled quietly outside the window, as if guarding every word of my pen.
I have a special resonance with the night, it understands my loneliness, it understands my revelry.
In the silence of the night, I heard my own heartbeat, beating in sync with the rhythm of the universe.
Staying up late is the flight of thoughts, the wandering of the soul in the night.
I wrote down my joys and sorrows, and let them find a home in the night.
Every night of staying up is a deep dialogue with the self.
I look for answers in words, and I also become a better version of myself in the search.
Staying up late is a carnival of the soul, a feast and carnival for the soul.
I let myself fly in this endless night, dance with the stars, walk with the moon.
May everyone who stays up late find their own stars, and may every night be a feast for your soul.