So its another late night and I am ferociously typinging away. Seconds pass into minute and minutes into hours nad like so many other nights, soon the sky will break out those dark shades of blue. Though I know what comes next its always still amazing to be awake for a sunrise.
Needing a break from writing, and working I went to the local gas station for a brief walk and there saw the moon and remembered these words from Jorge Luis Borges:
There is such solitude in that gold.
The moon of these nights is not the moon
The first Adam saw. Long centuries
Of human vigil have filled her with
An old lament. See. She is your mirror.