Sometimes in the latest hours

When sleep has been denied by the midnight sun

I find my mind enamored by nullity

Tantalizing the unfettering, unending pitch

Which swallows light in some craving from within

I wander to stand at the edge of it, to bear into a scenic night time

Where in an empty lane a streetlamp stands alone

Creating an undisturbed cone of luminosity

Defined by the blurring edge of darkness

So that those underneath the bright lamp

Get to embrace it’s artificial warmth

And cannot see into the surrounding abyss

With exposure only a mere step or so away

I cherish such absence of awareness,

For it harkens of childhood ignorance of the world’s ways

That unknown knowledge of that which lies beyond

The comfort and safety that lies beneath the lamp light

Often times, I feel I might be within that light

Yet in these aging, strange hours of life

With all the anguish in my heart

I know that I am in that darkness

Looking into the cast circle

Looking at the eyes of the unconsumed

Knowing – this mere line of distinction

Is all that separates our generation

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