Monologue 2: The Night’s Mortality
The night falls often, as she turns her back,
The sun casts shadows, but it bleeds its radiance away.
Is this the end?
The veil is cast; what was once the day is disguised in her clothes.
A stage of indifference is stubbornly forged;
She is resolute, unaccepting towards even a hint of change,
Drenched in monotonicity, the search for light is hindered by her intoxication.
Walking endlessly on aching legs,
Gasping in and out breaths of gleaming moonlight.
There is nothing but her.
Ceasing in exhaustion through misplaced exits,
The doors she comes to lead only to roads that circle.
A giant sea appearing in recklessness,
Lost men and women, walking deranged amongst her.
Then their bodies tire, turn and fall,
Sinking in loss and fading all remembrance.
But only when she stops searching,
Her veil detaches, and the intoxication disappears.
With another gasp, the night isn’t the same,
She stares at the sun, and never forgets.
She stares at her mortality and that of the day.
She sits idly by awaiting subsequence,
Another search? Yet another beginning?
One Comment