There is nothing quaint about it,
The way the twilight falls,
Crashing down over the earth
Like a blanket made purely of lead.
It will asphyxiate the affection of the sun.
All warmth, all safety, all things we thought we knew,
Will diminish.


An apocalypse is upon us
Destroying, annihilating all the equilibrium
Of day and night.
All the light will perish soon enough.
Soon we will be hypnotized
By the silken rays of the moon,
By the momentary explosion
Of burning orange, scarlet, crimson and saffron.
We will find ourselves enraptured in a vertigo.
So numb, so ghostly pale, no longer seemingly human.


There is no waiting for it to occur,
It is not so sweet as to hold back
Its murky blue wrath,
Speckled with blurs of milky white stars,
Tiny orbs forever taunting us,
Reminding us of how it murdered the sun
In cold blood, so blindingly bright.
Perhaps dawn will save us
From the blackened frigid night.