Midnights Descent

It came to me two mornings ago, maybe it was three. To believe that the Sun would rise, that the earth would spin blindly upon it's side, took more faith than I could muster. I sat next to the window, peering out at the horizon where I supposed the orb would appear. Birds sang out, cars cut through the dusk, headlights ablaze illuminating an asphalt wasteland.

And I sat, watching, pensive, not quite persuaded that the light would come. Streetlights, with their sickly pale glow, flickered as if to announce the forthcoming arrival of what I could not yet see.

Oh sparkling horizon, do not tempt these wanting eyes. Either burst into flames or altogether disappear!