Awake

The night glows.

It glows with the dying light

Not yet appeased with its glorious day

The glow smoulders with a reddish hue

A reminder of the coming rise

The call of temporal death beckons

My mind marches towards its trumpet

Aware of the coming day’s trials

And wary from the past day’s triumphs

My heart grasps onto me

Pleading for another second with the night

Another moment with the warm silence

Filled with cooling breezes, unblocked by future worries.

Perfect moments, amid a flood of anarchic time