There's this time somewhere between three and four AM where you don't hear a thing, where it's the absolute quietest; where everyone's sound asleep. You know that silence? How it can either comfort you or make you feel abandoned?

Then there's the first 'whoosh' of the cars driving by, and people are starting to wake up, and birds are beginning to chirp, and you can hear car doors slamming, and a honk or two in the distance. Then a neighborhood rooster crows not far down your own block, muffled by all the whooshing.

You look out your window and you see this very pale cyan peaking through and you feel so ******* blessed to hear the hum of the first motorcycle and the 16 wheeler roaring past the houses.

You prepare to rest with the knowledge that no one knows you're listening. You soak up all of the morning sounds because it's the high suspended peace before your fabricated nightfall and someone else's good morning.

You stayed up talking to the moon and you bid goodnight to the rising sun.