ode to the night

Darkness falls like the cloak that hides the devious. She comes creeping, subtle and foreboding, unsettling and directed. Focused and intent on a trajectory that will never waive. Thwarted only by the fickle-mindedness of her plot, she slithers in reverse, embalming the horizon beyond. Moment by moment, one ray of sunlight at a time, she veils our visions in her mists of ambiguity. We fall into disarray, men of the night.

And so the hunt proceeds as our eyes adjust to her disarming shade. We frolic and fornicate, fetter our hearts and fester our minds into uncompromising situations. Incoherent in the velvet chasms of her frigid bosom. We wilt in fear, and anticipate danger, lurking in every imperceptible crevasse and alley. Creating paths across the jet black site, we embrace her. Devoid of alternatives, a choice we must repeatedly make as the dusk introduces her every single day. She is absolute and temporal. Persistent and passing. Yet in her abyss of impaired scenery, our consciousness placate reason. Replacing it with uncertainty, fear, anxiety.

I embrace her. The cold winds that soothe my tired skin, her stinging arms calming my troubled spirit, lulling my evenings in the arias of her silence. Across electric stars incandescent and distant, she culls my emotions, veiled in the face of the brilliant sun, and amuses herself in my restraint.

I embrace her, to remind me I am fervent. Vigilant and ever resilient despite the squalor of fate’s tragedies. In her arctic embrace I am human again. Weak yet perseverant. Blinded in her shadows yet ever more perceptive and alert.

I do not fear her. Not because of the promise of day, and that her cyclic nature foretells of an eventual end to madness, but because she is merely misunderstood. By multitudes who have been victimized by those who prey in her midst, and by those who make her presence an excuse for the questionable.

In her darkness, I find solace. An anonymity sunlight seizes upon dawn.




Image from here.