Nightly

By E.B. Keane-Farrell

The wind gently caressed the world

Before fleeting into the twilight.

The stars shimmered in the eyes,

Reflecting more than was spoken.

A silent curse this world can hold,

In a demeaning sort of way.

The day was silent as it gave way to night,

Cowering below the horizon.

The sacred darkness took a pull on the soil,

Pushing the moon before its time.

The chokehold this realm has,

Blinding us from natural truths.

Blazing with the unborn,

Dimmed from those reborn;

Peace is irrelevant in this mystical shroud.

Stealth to the unknown,

A toast upon the emptiness.

Twilight lets its breath leave;

The sun dipping silently,

Willingly disappearing from view.

Total darkness enveloped the denizens,

Cloaking them in insignificance.

Eyes raised to the heavens,

Knowing that the rays of morning

Would arrive to dash the knowledge

The night conceives.