The night is young
Her thoughts not bothered
Her mind so pure
She believes the world is made for her
She believes she's the centre of the universe
Her time comes...
She sweeps away the clouds, the last remains of day
She hangs the stars in the sky
She cools the windy breeze
She carries the moon in her arms
She awaits her audience, a handful of souls that come out to admire the view
She is happy, carefree
Time goes on,
People start to leave
The night grows old
She turns more doubtful
A heavy burden weighs her down:
That she isn't doing her best...
She pastes up more stars
They fall from the sky
She chases the clouds away
They always wander back
She's troubled
She's worried her audience isn't satisfied
She's trying to please them
She's trying to get them to stay...
...Eventually
We all leave
We are so afraid of the monsters
They're all in your mind
We are all too afraid of the dark
Because you have no control of it
The night is old
The night is dying
She has learned that the world wasn't made for her
But rather,
She was made for the world
A transition from Day
Just a period of time when everyone goes to sleep
She wasn't meant to be looked upon on
The Night dies
Day takes her place
Everyone comes out to play
We rule the day
For our eyes can see in the light
The handful of late nighters
Will always be there
We will always be there to see
The Night's stars in the sky
The night will come back tomorrow
She'll try harder still
Let's appreciate the view shall we?
YOU ARE READING
The Clouds and the Stars
PoetryAnd then a new year began... This book is engrained with thoughts and feeling of myself in the wondrous and mysterious world we live in. A world that can be merciless and dreadful at times. But every time I feel like falling, I look up at the beaut...
