Village Above
In its darkened essence, I've found that the flavorless midnight sky holds its gaze as much as I do. On some nights, that gaze is a symbol of disturbance. And on some, desire. Which one it is at the moment or which one it'll be tomorrow is beyond my comprehension. Midnight's symbolic significance becomes apparent after a few days of its own. Yet on some nights of its own, it chooses the meaning to be known. Once looked at through a secondary pair of eyes, I realize that it is not the meaning behind it that matters to me but the symbols of the midnight sky themselves. Be it a senseless breeze rushing in and out of my balcony on a rainy night, be it a silent and warm hour of its own. Finding out what matters to me in this short span of an hour feels equal to a meal finally eaten on a busy day. There is now, for me, before the meal and after the meal. A span of existence subsequent to itself, a never ending cycle of time that is different each time yet somehow always the same...