Night vs. Day

(For Josey Hunt, my erractically intelligent
friend and lover of darkness)
10/22/03
Desperately out of range,
The darkness, unconscious of change,
Speeds to life each evening,
To preface the late and fall to leaving.
The stars seem pitiful and meek,
Tiny glimmers piercing their way to leak,
And like some old stones, they are still,
But they gather their compliments, lending appeal.
The dark is ritual, the dark is service,
The dark is permittable, the dark is purpose.
Those below may be vexed and shamed,
For this moment, some sensibilities are maimed.
Scattered eyes descry,
While minds are miles high.
When the day deepens and the sun seeps,
The moon glistens and coolness keeps.
A daily nightmare, an early task?
One is fulsome and merely a mask.
It's softer, covered, unlike the light.
A meal of adequacy for impending sight.

© 2003 Jarrod C. Lacy