10 p.m.

At 10 p.m. in the forgotten ritual of chores scarcely done there is solace in the night sky.

There is peace outside the hallowed walls of chaos.

There is a deafening silence that differs from the cacophonic chorus that is a home in the dead of night.

There are endless possibilities down the road never taken in the light.

At 10  p.m. my thoughts are finally awake while the sandman enters all others’.

Standing in the middle of the street there is wonder.

Then there is nothing.