In the Silence of the Night

without distraction alone in the silence of the night we are ourselves without anything but our uncanny likeness to the dead that have left us whom we will soon join (in a manner of speaking) beneath the ground & filled with worms or burnt to fine ash, sitting in an urn somewhere or spread over the land, the water or if your reality is one of being completely alone, then that ash may simply blow in the wind with the rest of the day’s garbage--- how vain the day is how much we pretend to matter in the sunlight where our physical imperfections sing tunes that everyone seems to listen to where our own blindness to life’s real priorities can be maxed out by a slow driver in front of us or the anxiety produced by just missing the subway train, having to wait for another--- with the night comes none of this for we know that so many have fallen asleep exhausted, their bodies demanding replenishment in that ironic paradigm wherein the retracting from actual life in real time into the paralysis of sleep allows for the building back up of the body & the energy supply for that busy insanity delivered to each one of us exclusively as a result of the individual choices we make.