The ghosts are quiet at 5 AM . They are there to be sure…they are always there…but they respect the sanctity of the predawn stillness and they are quiet.
The ghosts are quiet but the Universe…the Universe is electric, humming with life and death, light and music, possibility, probability, and regret; disparate threads, everyday wonders, shimmer and sing, muted at 5 AM but there to be sure…they are always there.
The ghosts are quiet…the Universe is alive…and the demons…the demons wait patiently on the sidelines waiting for the night to end and for the morning…with its bright, implacable light…to begin.
The ghosts are quiet…until a truck engine groans to life, until an angel whispers good morning, until the first shaft of sunlight rouses the first songbird of the day, until the demons stir anticipating another day of mischief, until…until it’s no longer 5 AM and the ghosts begin to speak again.
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