There was a sky. Claimed to be the same one everyone sees morning and night.
I took the sun, early, stinging my inner thoughts, scorching them.
The night embraced me like a beautiful man in the finest black jacket and shiniest shoes - shoes bright like stars.
A man told me he loved the day, hated night and all it's frolic.
A women explained her repulsion with the day and her fixation with her bodies of the night.
Children feared the dark.
While the old craved their days to be longer.
There was a misinterpretation.
A dialect of both light and dark that couldn't be placed for each rising heart all different to one another.
There was a beautiful lightness to how I felt alive by the moonlight. There was also a different deafening heat that blindsided me in the day.
But there was good company in both and I had to stop fearing the awful dialectic that mother nature and father time could squirm into my ears. I settled with the qualities of them all, both day and night; both light and dark.
And enjoyed me, myself, and I within the blooming aspects of the universe, my universe's entirety.
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