Hopefuls

I love the stillness of the night. The romanticized cloud filter creates patterns of the unknown through the trees and the scattered houses. The evening breeze caresses exposed skin. It leaves me wanting endless soothing touches, to disrupt the stifling heat that suffocates without prejudice. The magic of the night continues to enthrall the observer; for the darkness which accompanies, only heightens the imagination of all ages. With horizons stretching beyond vision and dreams reaching wild peaks, it is not uncommon for a hopeful wish to be made upon a lonely star. The night, she provides promise; the promise that when her endless love, the Sun, breaks through the darkness, new opportunities may arise with him. And for the few lost Hopefuls that pray upon these new beginnings each and every day, the night seems often more bearable. For within the night an escape can be made, an escape from the clustered minds and lonely souls.
With a yearning for comfort, kept company by excitable and conversational insects, the Hopefuls reach into the night: if only to find the stillness that could disrupt the constant chaos.