At night the Universe grows lean,
Sober-faced with intoxication.
The shadow of the half-sphere
Curtains down closely against my world
Like a doorless cage.
Listen, frogs in the pond,
(The world is a pond itself)
Cry out for the light, for the truth!
The curtains rattle ghostily along,
Bloodily biting my soul,
The winds knocking on my cabin door
With their shadowy hands.