| While the World Sleeps Nocturnal world, sleeping so innocently, tucked into beds of soft feathers and lace. Candlelight in a window, a face appears. In awestruck wonder, it gazes upon the new world with pondering, childlike eyes. The world is sleeping, the eyes say. The mouth only moves to exhale. The world below, black and unmoving, dissolves into the skeleton of a city. It develops like a photograph: a mere picture in the window�s frame. The breath embraces the pane, shocked by the chill of its sleekness. The crimson sun bleeds across the horizon. It washes the city, and it appears to be set on fire. The burning buildings reach toward the face, a sad attempt to escape from darkness. The eyes grow wider in the new light. Is this my reality, the eyes ask, or just another exposing daydream? |