The Night

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Thousands of reflections live the flicker and ripple of water, intrigued with the flirtatious graze of breeze on it. The buildings are half lit and the city dwellers are almost slept. The street lamps glow in its purposeful glory to shine through the darkest corners of this prolonged night. Anything that claims the empty streets is neither living nor dead, but shadows.

And here I stand, all by myself, with this world around me as my solitude. The cumulonimbus cloud of the cigarettes I puff shapes silent towers of ignorance around me. The view of gleaming water stirs a saddle of thought in the stagnancy of noise and debris this mind is filled with. There is a tacit silence in the air, the kind of consent that torments any living cell to scream aloud to itself. How beautifully every source of light seems to reflect just right on this dark-dark night! Perhaps it is in the dark itself, we enjoy the light of few and so the light within.

I am thoughtful tonight and so I am since many nights, finding the reason why I live.

Why do you live?

©Written Frames, 2018