The night is beautiful. Evening, with its dusty blue skies, the sun casting shadows long enough to be night on the ground already. The world seems to glisten, like the stars have come out to parade the earth before flying up into their place in the sky.
The sunset, with the long rays of sun, the sky blushing pinks and oranges. The moon goes unnoticed through the sunset, but the moon is already there, waiting patiently in the sky. I prefer the moonrise to the sunset. A small marble of ivory, bathed in the satins and silks of the sun, almost suffocated, and out of its element.
And then the new night, with its skies oddly purple, the moon only glowing. Orange street lights wake up one by one, groggily blinking awake.And the smell... mm, the smell of dusk is... just what it should smell like. Fresh. Cool. A bit musty, even. The chill of night has begin to set on, but the warmth from the sun is still radiating from anything that can hold it.
That warmth soon fizzes out, around ten, eleven, and then the night sets on. Dark, rich, beautiful. Thick enough to swim in. The moon by now is radiating, so bright you forget that the sun has gone away, and it feels like you could do anything. The later you go on, the more beautiful it seems to become. You can almost feel the lights going out in the houses around you, the spouses snuggling up in bed, the children with their teddy bears hugged gently to their chest. And you, defying the spells of the stars, remain awake through all of it.
Three AM holds all your secrets. The night, by three, is just all black, with street lights lighting it up more than the moon, usually. You have to squint to see the stars. It's the time that no one is watching. It's sacred. Though it's a little lonely, it feels good. Because you know, somewhere, some kid is up with you. Maybe he's crying. Crying alone, and so taken with grief that he can't bear the thought of stopping. Or maybe he's like you, watching the night calmly, serene, unmoving.
But soon, you're back to dawn. The spirit of the night is gone, frozen over for another night. It's grey. Cold. Lonely. All it gives way to is the sunrise, which results in blazing heat and too much sun. But the night will come again. And the sun will set, and the moon will rise, and it'll all happen over again.
