My telescopic eye captured at the forefront of an abandoned night sky, clear of clouds and absent of celestial bodies, His stoic silhouette, firm in meditation. His body a deeper shade of sound. His feet planted upon ghostly earth. His back the burgeoning shower of thought illuminated in starlight. My voice, ill-fitted with language, escaped on a sigh, stolen by Zephyrus to the heighth of sequoia, where it was lost amongst vixen screams and screech owl trill. Ill-fated. His proximity gained distance at my intrusion. His matter vibrated and scattered at my hand in attempt, leaving a tenebrous pool of escape. I’d scream into the nothingness, a ripple upon His surface would suffice. All too aware of my place. I opt instead to swallow my tongue and resume my four seasoned silence. Taking to the wilds of my nature, I let free my devils, I commune within my shadow, and walk the well worn path towards the cold light of the moon.

E. A. O'Connell. August 20, 2020.