The Dawn Is Your Enemy

Loveless by name,

and,

perhaps also in nature.

By that which is exposed at the earliest point 

to the severe chronic cacophony of the avifaunal court, 

insidious interlopers anticipating, 

basking in the coming symphony of light and sound and motion;

as was promised by the mere melting of evening before.

As it sank around us 

sedately washing the shine of day from view for the glorious stretch of

still.

And, this, the regale expanse pacing our hero

can only offer shelter and calm and dark which appears

at once to alienate and amplify the emptiness, 

observes benevolently

patient as we find in time, 

as pupils mirror the moon, 

the shadows who follow us faithful, and the stretch of everything beyond our grasp yet omnipresent.

Our hero,

Loveless, by name, and with time, not by nature-as realisation rarely presents itself,

and enlightenment less often still.

Night would never spoil our joke.