Alone with the night

The night holds little sounds, with the distance trucks changing gears and my heated breaths, the only noise to reach my ears

It's become a night where I watch the hands of time dance with numbers on a face that stretches from my birth to my death

Where the amber glow from a globe is reflected off the wings of silver moths, that evolve to wings of fire against my small lamp

A book that's closed shut, with torn wrapper making the last word my swollen eye did view. Lays forgotten in my lap as I look beyond the cool glass of my window 

It's hard to not marvel at something so stunning, that hangs above our heads with effortless beauty

A purity that is always around yet never truly seen, never truly appreciated

Framed with its sister's and brothers that are nothing alike it's cool surface. Only sharing the ability to light up and individuals eye

Fog that clouds my face becomes increasingly difficult to release as I regain the knowledge that I am still in need of inhaling the chilling air

Such a sight that could never be truly captured on a screen of pixels, nore a canvas of oils

One last look before I am to dive into a sea of darkness that no such light can penetrate. But where the chilling air and distant sounds can still reach 

However with the physical presence unable to come with me, it's memory that I have stored shall always light me way