Daywalker

Being a resident of a society that dwell in the light of the moon, I have become a pale reflection of the man I used to be. I've gained insight, understanding and a profound appreciation of the shadow and all of its inhabitants. In the dark, a sliver of light became a call to rest. The setting of the sun, a call to wake and ready one's self. The nocturnal way of life is a path not so easily diverted. The hold of darkness is strong.

As I see old friends who walk the daylight, they greet me as they set to earn their keep. I give them an expressionless stare. A smile devoid of warmth and sincerity. My drooping eyelids can barely stay adrift as I exchange pleasantries, scripted, as if quoting lines from an old movie. I started to envy them as they walk away with a bewildered look on their face as if saying, "what happened to him?"

Although the dark holds many indulgences of the flesh, my health suffers as I stay to partake of it's pleasures. A slow decay is not part of my grand scheme of things, now I struggle to break free.