1. The Night-Blooming Hour there are flowers which shun the daylight sight. They wait instead to make the world unstrain its voice. At midnight, when even the traffic leaves the spleen behind, the smell of them starts its tender rebellion- invisible, unstoppable. You would miss it in case you thought that beauty had to be viewed. to be believed. Tonight I walked home slowly just to witness it -- white petals opening like careful secrets. No applause greeted them. No crowd gathered. Still, they bloomed with the confidence of things that understand it is not dependent upon their aim on witnesses. I wondered then that there are how many life-histories like this! quietly, and when all are asleep. Perhaps we are more faithful to ourselves in the dark, less afraid of becoming who we were meant to be. And the perfumed night was filled with, and for a moment the whole breathing earth felt tender. 2. City of Sleepless Windows From my balcony the city glittered -- not with celebration, but with persistence. So many lit windows at a time when should have been yielded. Behind one, some one wrapped up tomorrow troubles into neat stacks. Behind another, a child, a child barred with dreams. Somewhere, two people were ending a love they had rehearsed saving. Archaivists are insomniacs We catalogue regrets, play back and complete dialogues, polish old grief until it shines again. Yet there is companionship in this shared wakefulness -- a silent agreement among strangers that rest will come later. Near dawn, one by one, the windows dimmed. Not defeat -- just the body remembering it belongs to morning. I stayed a while longer, watching the darkness thin, reflecting what a wonderful thing it is. that all the anxious nights should end in, the world still chooses to begin again.
Abraham Aondoana is a writer, poet and novelist. He is a recipient of Idembeka Creative Writing Workshop 2026. Follow Aondoana’s work on Instagram.