by C. Ikpoh
The night is a veil of all things to be hidden: a blanket of obscurity. It is the time where all fades into nothingness. Who, what, when, where and why we are, all answers are paralyzed as undefined in the night. There is no escape for those who seek it. There is no light into to the abyss. The only thing which exists is a continual blackness. The night is much more than we bargain for.
It encourages the actions of our lesser selves: the lusts to the hedonists, the fury to the wrathful, the blood to the thirsty. It indulges them throughout the night. Dead time is high noon regardless of your faith. We are all subjected. None ever goes untouched. Every reflection mirrors the hidden accumulations of our skeletons; all the things we buried and let wither away to a morbid memory. How dare we look at anything else? How dare we not gaze into the night?
The jackal roams freely. Each paw print is etched into our soul. There is no concept of time, only one stream of existence which we cannot fathom. Past, present and future are all the same through the portal of the night, unleashing things known only to the abyss. How dare we not travel into it? Night walkers are the prophets to us all, for they have entered into the darkness we fear. Their eyes hold our inevitable fates: tales of the gypsy anarchy, the hoodoo and voodoo yin and yang defining righteousness against the night. The jackal birthed as a preclusion to their conquests. A necessary evil is the night.
The hallowed sky reveals a doorway to the loss of our ancestors. Our spirits trail off the thin layer of flesh binding us to this world. Our different individual essences are intertwined, tangled into a brotherhood of the night. The wolf and the serpent travel together in unison inciting a transfusion of our true nature with the night. Everything we are becomes nocturnal. Are we worthy of what is to follow? Such is an inquiry only for the night.
The layer of protection sown to each lifeline fueling us has been made only to be torn. It is pushed to the brink, forming a funnel of elasticity, leaving no more give. We are pierced by the night's lethal injection, and are infused with the solace of deadly tranquility. We are filled with a silence which rings throughout the ripples of our universe as waves in the single stream of enigmatic time. Valiant attempts to resist the intoxicating prescription the enemy has written for us are for naught. Salvation is hopeless.
Cold, crisp air slides across the surface of the body. The night licks our exteriors. Who can tempt like the night? We are but mere shadows in a world of the unforgiven. Now is when we need embrace all we strive to be. It is in these times the purpose, the truth, the reason of life matters the most. The jackal has married the wolf and the snake, revealing time is a man made notion. Light has been voided to never return. Escape the needle of damnation. The night walkers sing lunar songs in perfect harmony. The night is the key. The night...