Random Acts of Poetry

This Darkness

I was treading the midnight road,
where the pale eyes of windows

were closed in sleep, and all around,
I heard the low, boozy laughter

of insomniacs. Against the horizon,
jagged rooftops scissored the black,

and above –- full of nothing,
like an fathomless pit –-

a starless heaven yawned.
I found the answer, then,

something I always knew
in my marrow:

that when darkness descends,
all questions dissolve,

and on the sides of our eternal box
troublous scenes begin to flicker.