Sean McCleary

February 4th

I am the sweet chill of a empty winter’s night. My memories reach beyond the blue depth of a pearly water. My moment here is simply a transit—a flight into the physical, a push through what is yet to come. Far beyond and further down, I float into the unknown and undiscovered, which I am. It is so, that those who hear me seek to know me, and yet I watch cautiously, enveloping them in my winged view. Brisk is all that I know, for when others warm to cackling fire, then drift to rest in moonlit slumber, I awaken to darkness—a reflection only of the night within. Keeper of dusk, steward of dawn, god of the night.