In the twilight of dusk, as shadows stretch long, the horizon bleeds crimson, stitched with threads of gold.

Stars awaken slowly, like whispers of forgotten dreams, twinkling through the fabric of night, casting spells on the earth.

The moon, a silver spoon, cradles the world in its light, and the forest sighs softly, a symphony of nocturnal life.

Under this celestial dome, I wander, a seeker, tracing the path of fireflies, their flickers a dance, in the quiet of the dark.

• Ayi Kwei Armah