On a lonely quiet summer night I sit in silence waiting for that slice of time. My wandering eyes find their way around the tiny sounds of midnight and ponder. The soft gurgling of the stream grabs hold of my ears and I listen; I listen to the deepest thoughts of where there is nowhere left to go. The night is the thick blanket that accompanies me when my mind is cold, it is the companion to dark thought; the darkest thoughts of night. Waiting for that thin sliver to call my own inside the cesspool of lonesome questions that live inside shadow, I wander about only to find that I exist to cause myself pain and I lose myself again. I lose myself every time the night grows dark.
Saturday, August 16, 2008