Day Six Hundred and Eighty One
Friday, 6 January 2012, 1.29am
Serenity is in a rural night sky. The sound of the air rumbles with an empty presence. Air, as it moves, should be silent, yet in the dead of night it stirs. One bright flicker of light stands prominent; a stationary, golden glow. Shining silver pinpricks in the blacked out blanket begin to reveal themselves, stretching in every direction, further than the eye can see. A silhouetted earth is met by a purple haze of light on the horizon; not quite a black sky. It still seems endless as grey clouds float through it; slowly gracing the world with their presence before drifting off on their journey. The air they pass is clean, crisp, cold, and refreshing. It smoothes tenseness as it rushes into lungs. It feels like the earth was meant to be felt. It feels like nature, like wisdom, like peace.
Perhaps nocturnality is an adaptation for more reasons than one.
