The Beautiful Death

It was a late night a man was standing on an old brick bridge

lighted by the moon he was looking down at the calm choppy water and was humbled by the way it moved 

he wore a jet black suit a white dress shirt and an old wrinkled black tie

he looked up and was mesmerized by the beautiful sky

he saw all the stars cause there were no city lights near to cloud this wondrous sight

he could make out what appeared to be some thing much like the northern lights

turquoise and a dusky purple filled the night sky

a gentle delightful cool breeze crawled up his spine 

he took a deep breath of the clean crisp air and exhaled it in sync with the calm blowing wind 

he closed his eyes momentarily to hear the sound of the swaying trees 

listening to the sounds of the shaking fall leaves

he took out his pocket knife and opened it with ease

he whispered to himself what a beautiful night to die

he looked back up to the sky and with his knife sliced his jugular

while continuing to look up at the sky he began dancing with the northern lights 

like an artist painting his shower of blood began painting the bricks

after a full few minutes he fell to the ground right next to his knifes blade

he saw it shine from the moon light and could see that the blood on his knife was practically black

unlike the red you would normally see during the day

and before his final breath with a single tear streaming down his face

he said once more what a beautiful night to die