The Night waxes and wanes
without any thought of the world around it.
It doesn't care who is doing what.
It claims it's own place in the world no matter what anyone else does.
The Night plays no favorites and does not hate.
It simply exists.
Maybe that's why we're so afraid of it.
Why we tremble when it shows the infinite depths of it's face.
Not because it hides the world from our prying eyes,
but because it is out of the reach of our puny arms.
We have always been confused by what we can't manipulate.
And we have always feared what confuses us.
YOU ARE READING
A Dash of Lemon
PoetryThis is a bunch of random poetry I wrote. Key word being random. Some of it kind of has a story continuing from my other poetry book, (Backwards Lemons) but it's not super important. Some of it's insane, some of it's random, some of it's crazy, and...
