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At the End of the Night

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Xthatech
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PostSubject: At the End of the Night   Mon May 25, 2009 9:36 am

We move in the shadow of the night. The light of the day blinds us. We hide in the shadow of reality, of which we refuse to see. Mornings are beautiful, but sometimes force us to rush into life and forget to take time and look at what beauty really is. People accept what society vindicates as right or true, at times not even trying to realize that wrong and untrue may be just labels that people are afraid to question because they are different- so we hide from them. We are different. We never had rules as such, yet we abide by what we believe was right or what society dictates as ‘proper’. The night comforts me; it elevates my desire for your presence. Desire may be a strong word, but I have always used it in its purest sense. We sat under the dark sky; we talked about mornings and life beyond our sight. Your view of life and its complications amuses me, it was all together peculiar and different but interesting. Your eyes show weariness, uncertain of the sunrise. It almost rained, but you were strong. You had to be, for people who survive the day were supposed to. I can see that through your courage there was pain and uncertainty, I held your hand from afar. It was cold, but soothing. The sun has pierced my skin during the day, your icy evenings has always melted the hurt away. I cannot promise to stop the rain, only to keep you warm through the night. Make you laugh your troubles away, while we wish for the moon to stand still. The night passes quicker than a shooting star. Dawn begins to break. Reality will soon find us, no matter what shadow we are under. You soon realize that the morning will always be part of the night. You accept it because you believe that it is your world- created by chance of which realities are written on stones, unchangeable. Mornings have always been your box of truth. I will always look far away to see you face your day. Be happy for the brief moment that the night to me was comforting and be thankful for someone who taught me how to face my mornings with hope to find someone who will face the night with me as you once did.

Seeing her vanish in the blinding glare of the afternoon, I noticed something in my hand. Something she left to keep me busy while my nights were vacant, I looked at it deeply, after a while kept it buried under a tree. I don’t need it anymore; I already pictured it in my heart. That way I would always remember her; for even when the night was abrupt it served as a reminder to me of what beauty that the day brings if you believe it to be.
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At the End of the Night

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