Beauty of the Night

As I sit at 3 am, typing away on my phone, I can say with complete belief: there's beauty in the night.
Indeed, there's beauty in the void between days, in the silence of the atmosphere, in the darkness before the dawn, in the stillness of the night.
Whether you're bundled up in your favorite blanket, or out swinging whilst looking at that same moon that moves the earth's oceans, you can't help but appreciate the darkness. Hearing the clock tick and matching your pulse to it, or closing your eyes and drifting off to sleep with your own breath as a lullaby- it's all nirvana. Whether you're an introvert or an extrovert, it barely matters: that delicate plain between consciousness and dreams is a peaceful adobe where, for once, your own company is all you need.

Jar of Fireflies

I see balls of light,
each emitting heat.
So beautiful, so radiant,
yet, modest with conceit.

Energy and life
bursts in them,
They are but stitches
in a cloth with no hem.

With every breath
they grow, they age.
They move, they collide,
and eventually they die.

They dot the sky,
creating a beautiful sight.
Making a masterpiece
of the dreary night.

I see balls of light,
each emitting heat.
I am but a single pea
in the infinite sea.

The universe that
of stars comprise,
Is but a jar
of fireflies.

Wolfsbane

Her mind was a mess-
It reflected her soul.
Her heart too
Was beyond control.

She was sick.

Sick of what the world
had done to her,
Sick of her life
being a chaotic blur,
Sick of others
telling her what to do,
Sick of people
deciding her value.

She was tired.

Tired of not knowing
how to respond,
Tired of forming
meaningless bonds,
Tired of being a weed
A field of flowers amid,
Tired of living
the way she did.

She was done.

Done with the reigns
that tied her to the ground,
Done  with obligations
weighing her down,
Done with manners
that dictated her personality,
Done with being afraid
of her mortality.

She took the leap,
And flew to heaven.
And though freedom
was her only aim,
Society was
her wolfsbane.