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by Mark Aug 6, 2017
Life, society /
Cannot sleep. Stillness not an option. The time of day renders all the usual closed. Comfort is sought, comfort is yearned - as a pain in the chest.
Living so close to an abundance of life, amazing how little has been seen. The lights are so bright. Never observed how bright they are.
They flicker on and off, no unison and timing strange. It works, how can it work. Each spark diminishing the restlessness; loneliness.
Never eased at other misfortunes, fear that this time cannot be helped. For the insomina of the city and those therein; is alike soothing water on a burn.
A friend. Strange to think. Ever around, unwavering and nodding. Agreeing with the deepest of thoughts. It's how it seems - these lights.
Operational all day; only noticed at night. Flashing as far as can be seen , each meaning may not be known during this stroll.
Restlessness; neither here nor there will suffice. This unfortunate state is somewhat eased by these city lights. These many bright city lights.
Knowing the morrow will brighten again, these two in the audience of this awesome show grow heavy. Till another time old friends.
Shall be needed again.
Mark, I really liked this a lot. I found myself nodding in agreement over your words. It's strange how clear things are in the stillness of the night with the just the lights to tell their story. Well done-
by Ben Pickard
Effortless writing and a joy to read.
All the best,