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Out at Night
Feb. 25th, 2010 10:36 pmThe light of the gibbous moon glints eightfold off of spinning wheels as I race through the night.
How did I survive the winter? But now the snow and ice has retreated, and the wheels of my skates once again roll freely across the pavement. I feel free again. It is almost like flying.
The moon is high in the sky, higher than the sun ever dares to rise in this latitude. It shines so brightly. Why do we fear the moon? It is like a heroic trickster, a Prometheus, stealing for us reflected fire to shine in the night, as penalty being slowly eaten and then slowly regenerated every month. It lights up my path clear and true, tonight; showing up the cracks and holes in the rougher streets that would pull me down.
I love this city, particularly at night. Love the orange of the streetlights against the deep blue sky. Love the intricate, winding suburban maze. Especially love the deserted, unfinished places, where the ground is covered in dust from construction and the bare framework of the houses still shows through. I have always felt oddly drawn to unfinished places.
Tonight, on a dare from the moon, I went down a long, rough, unlit road, one I had not dared to travel before. Not knowing where I would come out. I have been lost in unfamiliar streets in the dead of a strange an wonderful night; I remember there was a strong wind, and it nearly rained.
The end of the road was in a familiar place; an ending I pass on my way to work, but on the other side; I must have missed it every time. Strange how we miss things simply because we do not look.
I feel like myself again.
How did I survive the winter? But now the snow and ice has retreated, and the wheels of my skates once again roll freely across the pavement. I feel free again. It is almost like flying.
The moon is high in the sky, higher than the sun ever dares to rise in this latitude. It shines so brightly. Why do we fear the moon? It is like a heroic trickster, a Prometheus, stealing for us reflected fire to shine in the night, as penalty being slowly eaten and then slowly regenerated every month. It lights up my path clear and true, tonight; showing up the cracks and holes in the rougher streets that would pull me down.
I love this city, particularly at night. Love the orange of the streetlights against the deep blue sky. Love the intricate, winding suburban maze. Especially love the deserted, unfinished places, where the ground is covered in dust from construction and the bare framework of the houses still shows through. I have always felt oddly drawn to unfinished places.
Tonight, on a dare from the moon, I went down a long, rough, unlit road, one I had not dared to travel before. Not knowing where I would come out. I have been lost in unfamiliar streets in the dead of a strange an wonderful night; I remember there was a strong wind, and it nearly rained.
The end of the road was in a familiar place; an ending I pass on my way to work, but on the other side; I must have missed it every time. Strange how we miss things simply because we do not look.
I feel like myself again.
