The-Lost-Shri

I was speaking to the night again, walking down the lonely streets. Not asking questions of the stars, or looking to the moon for guidance, but to the bitter blackness that crept out to claim the light. I asked for its comfort, and the dark warmth, and I told it about my tired days under the summer sun. The night listened, as it always does, in patient silence. My feet knew the path well enough I could carry on my conversation with little interruption, and I turned onto a darker street with hardly a thought. I drew my eyes off the pavement for a moment, and into my eyes burned the vision. It was one of my own making, that I knew. The place w