The Niche Of Night

Lamenting on how 'boring' the niche I'm writing in is, take heart, chill-pill, an iced drink and loosen the spirits out, pour paisley in your perennial thoughts. Dive into content, folks!

'The night sky is how I wished to fly.' At times, I felt as if I could feel it tremoring, whispering a cacophony the ears cannot bear to hear. Considering the polar pole, I felt it a hail-fellow when the world felt so devoid of 'love'. Stars poured into the sky like pale corn into freshly turned ground. It was the vow of living in darkness, a sense of warmth springing from the haze in absolute amaze! It was vastness to bring humbleness and an eternal space to bring gratitude for coziness. No matter years that lingered, night sky still winged!

As night fell blue haze of the day lift to reveal stars. I pondered, if we were nocturnal would we be more connected to the skyscraping stars? Perhaps sensing the fragility of Earth, night's rolling down of curtains!

Stars shone as sugar spilled over black marble. Seeming a magical wisteria, a sight to behold. There were times, under skies of blue hues, when I'd muse of faraway stars and how they'd return after the shadows blended into the dark.

The night sky to me is a ravishing art, alive in raw energy. I felt as if I could feel it vibrating, whispering in a way the ears can't hear. I guess it felt folksy when the world of folks felt so devoid of love. I wanted to see it just, in three dimensions, the sculpture of divine hands!

It was cosmic to bring humbleness and eternal infinity home's coziness. No matter during lingered years, each night firmament boomed life anew. It was the while, anyone who knew me would see my eyes brim and breath deepen. I felt that this was closer to the sooth of who we are!

Stars lit the sky as snowflakes in the night, yet seeming motionless. (beaming) I felt the wind blow my hair in a tousled mane. Were I out there in space, riding the limits of the unknown universe, they would be a choreographed blizzard. How the stars would travel, galaxies tumble and dart. But for now, with my arms 'round the branch of a windswept tree and head leaning gently on the bark, the starlight kept its familiar pattern. The constellations, who'd witnessed centuries and millennia just the same, bided over this awe-taking moment.