What is more fantastic than the coming of night?
This strange turning that takes away the light
As if the planet itself had turned away from the sun,
the source of all energy and life.
Who could believe such an event could occur with such regularity
There is no crazy prophet in the streets, screaming doom, crying that the light is vanishing
No. It is if this rapid shift from light to darkness
Vision to blindness
Were something normal and meant to be
And that all on this orb would survive till the coming of dawn.
We close our doors and light our lamps
As if those acts were commensurate with this cosmic, planetary change
And turn down the sheets
And say our prayers.