Ding! . . . Ding! . . .
A man locks eyes with an artificial light
that shows a world clouded in darkness. Gleaming with empty words and false promises, the light is shut.
“Not now,” he says, as he drifts of into the night.

Ding! . . . Ding! . . .
The man springs from his bed, chasing the light.
Yet his calloused hands go stiff—
he backs away with a shake of the head.
“I’m not ready,” he says, as he eyeballs a dusky mirror reflecting on days that have long gone.

Ding! . . . Ding! . . .
This time, he merely acknowledged the light—
the light that enamored him once, maybe twice.
Yet this time, he simply glanced
as it died in the twilight.
“Why bother?” he says, as he dreams of days that once were.