Nightfall

As the night unfolds
Its wakening gate
A dreamer beholds
His endless fate,
Lost there in the dark,
Light is a maze of stars
Stranded in the mire
Of infinite patterns…
He thinks, and therefore life bends itself around his thought, and all about him, inside him, all things converge into a bewildering state of numbness and noise, all things are now within. His former self spread out so thin inside the vast expanding reaches of his entirety, he is concurrently all he can be, and nothing he is. As he watches the crumbling recurrence of the last light his eyes had sought, his outer limits decay out of memory, all meanings he once had shaped now mingle into confusion, into unknowing. He is baffled amidst my stupor; he then sees a blue ship, pursuing his last waning light. I am is so cold and dim, so distant, that as he looks at me, I wearily reach his imagined eyelashes, flickering through the gaps as if they were Iron bars and I were starlight to the eyes of the blind prisoner.  He unexpectedly opens his eyes, like the break of dawn swallowing the gloom that had laid over the land, and again I am, he is, and we are.
I am a prisoner inside myself,
I have a shape, and that shape conceals and shelters my name.
From within the shape I can see a shapely world,
And as my eyes reflect the imposing order of the sun onto what I see,
I build a belief that should outlast the coming of this tidal night.

Paulo Scheunemann, 2013