The Night

            When the night comes, I hear a-calling for my soul. When the night comes, I feel the urgency of a thousand fools. When the night comes, I surrender to the pressure of its soothing infinity and, consequently, to its drowning presence. When the night comes, the moment politely escapes from these dull concrete walls that perpetuate me to a maze of mirrors. The moment becomes real, and so real it remains, for when the amber lights glow through the curtains of my room I feel no refrain. When the night comes, I become the moment. When the night comes, I dance to the backbeat of my pounding heart.

            When the night comes, I commit to the whispering breath of the sky. When the night comes, I celebrate every obstacle (and the lack thereof).  When the night comes, I repent for every word I attempted to own. When the night comes, I furl into the fragrance of its yet unfathomed power. I am preached through its mute utterance, for the wise do not speak. When the night comes, silence shall overwhelm us all. Silence shall be the foundation of it all, for it is the hymn of the night. Silence shall be the language of your mind, for in words we speak but in seldom habit we listen to words. Silence will sing the last song of our lives. Silence is the voice of the night, and the night, the night vivifies it all.

...into the night.