There are times when the moon; tame and slight lingers just a little longer, and immediately, I await a permanent midnight. Instead of the sky twirling into itself with shades of purple and red --that honey tint on a velvet sheet-- and the clouds look as if a child has been traipsing through the snow I long for a better darkness, one that I have a name for but can't really remember no no NO There is ruthlessness to the emergence of dawn; an arrogance of piety-- forcing light on us the way it does. A kinder sun would wait. It would let the dying, incorporate itself into the unyielding as seamlessly as possible and burn out without trace.