Look, there,
through the darkened glasses beclouding the eyes, you will see lights
fading slowly. Slowly seeping out of your eyes like brine from an old
memory, like breeze through the hollows of a dead tree. So slowly, so
tenderly, it feels like the pain would never end. But there is this deep,
entrenched, engaging, enticing pleasure in this slow, tender, gradual,
egression, in this tip toing of the lights to freedom.
Look there, near the horizon, the immiscible lights dissolving into one another, just before they fade out of the night sky, leaving nothing but dark and dense thoughts floating about in the starlit empty minds.
The lights look strange through the darkened glasses, like synesthetic manic eyes, changing colours in the mind. But these colours die out soon, in those empty minds; they slowly turn grey, and then disappear.
They leave behind dry, glassy eyes flickering like a dim flame, searching the many colours of the cavorting lights near the horizon and in the starlit minds of thoughtless creatures, under thoughtless skies.
The nights are starlit, dark, and dense. They are thoughtless and manic. Yet they are calm, like the lights through the darkened glasses. But these darkened glasses trouble the simpleton eyes.
The darkened glasses make the eyes look hard for manic minds floating around. The darkened glasses are liars. They hide the thoughtless empty minds in the dark; they befog the dead hopes under the starry skies. Yet you look through the darkened glasses all night long.
Look now, the brightening horizon, it is daybreak, and it is the demise of the empty minds at the altar of a ruthless, hopeful morning. The cavorting lights are back effacing the thoughtless skies, and the manic nights.
The darkened glasses are shimmering again, glowing in the brightness of the thoughtful, hopeful minds of the day, under brilliant skies, and over the cadavers of the night. Yes! The night died again, calmly, softly.
Look there, near the horizon, the immiscible lights dissolving into one another, just before they fade out of the night sky, leaving nothing but dark and dense thoughts floating about in the starlit empty minds.
The lights look strange through the darkened glasses, like synesthetic manic eyes, changing colours in the mind. But these colours die out soon, in those empty minds; they slowly turn grey, and then disappear.
They leave behind dry, glassy eyes flickering like a dim flame, searching the many colours of the cavorting lights near the horizon and in the starlit minds of thoughtless creatures, under thoughtless skies.
The nights are starlit, dark, and dense. They are thoughtless and manic. Yet they are calm, like the lights through the darkened glasses. But these darkened glasses trouble the simpleton eyes.
The darkened glasses make the eyes look hard for manic minds floating around. The darkened glasses are liars. They hide the thoughtless empty minds in the dark; they befog the dead hopes under the starry skies. Yet you look through the darkened glasses all night long.
Look now, the brightening horizon, it is daybreak, and it is the demise of the empty minds at the altar of a ruthless, hopeful morning. The cavorting lights are back effacing the thoughtless skies, and the manic nights.
The darkened glasses are shimmering again, glowing in the brightness of the thoughtful, hopeful minds of the day, under brilliant skies, and over the cadavers of the night. Yes! The night died again, calmly, softly.
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