The night of the nightfall has arisen from the death of the night. With the chilly touch of the nightwind and with the soulless sense of the darkness of the night, you can hardly imagine one can do what one likes in the mysterious side, the immortal side of death.
Yes, you can always hear the voices from the ground of death every now and then at night. Often, its echo can easily still your movement. Yes, it never happens to the heartbeat of yours, not until the last moment of your life.
To you, the graveyard is not the place that you like to be in when the midnight clock strikes. To me, it was a place where the spirits of others and me reunioned. It was always a creative view when the time was right for our transparent bodies to never stop balleting with the nightwind. Also, it was the only time that we were free from the daysleep. Nevertheless, the spirits moved in an undetermined way, in the path of up and down and in various entertaining ways either vertically or horizontally. Like the stage of a play, it was never much different than any kind in the other world.
At the time of daybreak, it was another play of life for me; it was also an end for the activities of the night. Night by night, and second by second, life was just another particle of mother nature when I was a member of the death then. As for the present period, day by day and minute by minute, it never did change in any way.