Nothing at Night
A thick, warm blanket of grey cloud stretches across the sky, to as far as the naked eye can see. Adding a touch of
warmth and calm to the chilling air. Silent chirps of crickets float so gently, so peacefully through the depths of my
mind. The deadness of night strokes me with a soothing hand, beckoning me to mingle with nature a while. Trees
reach for the heavens, ever so gently swaying. Brilliant beauty.
No rushing, no pushing and shoving, no bells, no noise. Empty noises of night add softness to the dimly lit death.
Unexplainable passion for nature surges through the outer reaches of my body. No birds flying, no dogs barking,
nothing. Nothing, but everything involved with the nothingness. The luscious, moist, cold grass; the resting dogs,
grooming themselves; unheard sooking pups, whimpering for more milk; dribbling condensation on the window.
Everything. Even the tiny moths, the insects, the still grass, the rumbled growl of an alarmed dog.
The river lets out the most silent of trickles as it passes motionless to the vast sea. Attractive silhouettes line the horizon,
closing me inside the world's most peaceful cage. No colour hath more beauty than the darkness of night. There is but
one thing more beautiful than the darkness which amounts to the nothingness of night, and that is…