Prose
Night Sky.
Just an account of what I feel
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
— Dylan Thomas
Seeing the night sky full of infinitely infinite thoughtful possibilities I feel stupid, about the problems that concerned me realizing they are so petty and I feel so small and fragile!
But the smallness of the small doesn’t affect the big at all!
Not that I have insomnia but every night after the sun goes down and before the sunrise, in the darkness of the mystical quiet night with the Moon stealing the thunder from the stars and in the solitude of my heart I try to rekindle the Light within me, losing my head in the silent sound;
Swallowing my pride I persuade myself, justify my decisions and choices to myself, question everything and my existence and with my blanket as my only security, I try to seek closure and composure.
The forces that are at play are way beyond than what I can comprehend, there’s so much more that I want to understand, but thinking about what the star-lit night sky show is trying to hide and what is beyond it, I sleep like a baby thence switching off my hazard lights and putting all my thoughts to bed !!
