Melancholy of the Night

Thu, 08/18/2016 - 22:00 -- qqwwrr3

Footsteps tapping lightly against the road beneath my feet,

I walk under the streetlights; across concrete rivers I leap-


Spotlight on! Dancing under the orange light

with nothing but the buzzing of insects to accompany me with their flight.

And so I go on foward

deep into that unseen night.


The wind rustles in the bushes behind me,

its cool touch tickling my skin.

I shiver in delight, or maybe surprise;

for the moment, the wind is my kin.


The road ends suddenly, at the base of a hill

and there stands one last streetlight.

Standing tall, solemn, unfazed:

a disapproving parent.


It gazes at me with its one glowing eye

and for a moment I feel an urge to stop -

but the wind blows the grass and sings an alluring song

and I know I must go to the top.


The grass sways all over the hill,

a midnight dance without invites.

And although the way ahead is dark and dim,

I go foward into that unknown night.


The climb is steep, but each step might as well be

one freed from the omnipresence of gravity.

For as I go into the dark night,

the dark night calls out to me

until I finally make it and see





I am alone.


I stand for a while, savoring the air,

Thoreau's isolation made repeat.

The stars consume me, and the darkness cloaks me,

and for that instant: I am free.






This poem is about: 


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741