Yesterday evening, I rose from bed
to find that the sun had not set.
It has been so long now since I
last saw that great burning eye
that I though, perhaps, that the
apocalypse was upon us at last.
At last... at last...? I had not
realised that I had grown so tired,
so lonely, so resignedly ready for
the end to come.
If you were to ask me how long it has
been, I truthfully could not tell
you. A thousand years? Or half that,
maybe, or ten times so long. I no
longer have any way to know. The
moon is a faithful companion, but
a poor timepiece.
