While the World Slept

I gave myself an exercise:
to play with different lights,
with the soft spectrum of the moon
still in front of my eyes.

Because we often think
the way our mind is set.
And sometimes
we fight to see differently.

I started with the moon,
but the buildings spoke of a sun
that hadn’t yet risen,
or perhaps had never left.

The shadows were wrong.
The logic—off.
A world where physics blinked,
and everything paused to breathe.

Maybe it's morning,
maybe it's night,
or maybe it's a place
where rules no longer matter.

That in-between moment
when light doesn't yet know
what it wants to be.