I don't usually write poetry, I stick to lyrics most of the time, but last night I was walking home around 2 in the morning and there was almost no sound. It inspired me to write this on the way. Tell me what you guys think of it.
It is a comforting night. Dark and comforting. The silence is neither brooding, nor eerie. Instead, it is a warm shroud around me. The deep, fleeting humming from distant cars looms in a far off place, seemingly miles from mine. If it were not for my footsteps, the silence would be nearly deafening. The whole city sleeps comfortably, and I feel isolated. Time seems to go by tenfold, for each time
I consciously observe my whereabouts, I am a mile further down the path. My body is warmed by this comforting isolation, which makes the cold air sting that much more. The night is a warm cover with a subtle chill, reminding me of my susceptibility to the weather and conscious life. My fatigue is not met with drowsiness, rather, it is met with what seems to be a detachment from the sensory world. As I progress, the characteristics of the night consciously change, and I feel time start to slow to its normal speed as my inspiration to write this dwindles, and the final words are written. This feels like contentedness.