The dark of the night
crawls
Creeping slowly
Suffocating whatever is
illuminating.
Silhouettes become one
with the background.
What once were poignant shapes
now are ambiguous edges.

Where is escape?
Imagination trudging
looking for a way out.
But the night is
too dark
And this light, for now,
is the only temporary
comfort.
For now.


Not ever,
I hope.

What is there left to do
when all you've done
is what you have been doing?
Where is there left to go
when all you've been
is where you've been going?
Who is there left to know
when all you've known
is who you've been knowing?

There is more to the universe
Than the universe we have been
revolving.
Go out and see.