a night life Gazing out the window, on this dreary autumn night I see a stage before me illuminated by starlight, The sheath of a curtain obstructing its sight. Mocking my stillness and the booming beam of my maglight. I use to think as the light as a sword, a saber such as That which my vaunted hero Luke Skywalker, Wielded against the forces of the night, so long ago, When I use to wake up, alone, at three 'o clock. The ceiling is too high, when laying here flat against the ground. I'm getting vertigo just looking at it, but perhaps, More disturbing than that, is that it disappears without a sound, I cannot penetrate its depths with my vision. Which only aided the restlessness of thoughts into sleep. A deceased visage looming out of the corners of the mind, framed, In the leering form of a shadow outside that curtained enclave of security. Chasing me back into dreams of peaceful utopia, with a knife in his hand.