Before the night turns too black,
the sky turns a deep hue
of eerie, ancient blue,
and smoke streaks through
the sun's fading light.

Houses with their homey lights,
I see them against the chemical sky-light,
yellow and strange,
with their great silhouettes sulking,
whispering of what to come.
Their walls look small
beside the turbid sky,
it's just as dangerous
if you wait outside.

Geese blare above,
their screams jut out suddenly;
their cries walk the thin line,
between everything and empty
that sits somewhere
in the air.

beautiful turns black.
just like that.
so can it be a savior
if its glory ends,
if it succumbs to death?

Absent are the stars
that so often sing to me
sadly,
though strongly promising
we'll meet again.

The world is emptier than me
When the last light leaves,
will the day open into a night that's nothing?
one day something
will be wrong.
All the stars will fall,
backward into the blackness
that feeds
on light
and you and me.
And I won't be able to see
and that great nothing
will become part of me,
and I'll belong to nothing,
and I'll know
how small we are.

I close my eyes and see family,
and simple, soft motions
that hide deeper love
that lies beneath
our frightened veneers of comfort and peace.
But nothing lies within that blackness of sky,
between points of storming light that will one day die.
Nothing hides.

Everything ends,
from the mountains carved without care,
to swelled, fragile hearts,
filled through the years,
surrounded by jagged rock and sharpened sticks.

but for now
I'm here,
with much to lose.
So I best calm,
since everything's the same until its not,
and then it's gone.