The sun simply sinks below the horizon, doing what it knows best.
How I've always envied the sun; She rose and brought light to her world, and when she sank she let her stars shine for her.
When the dark of her night nestles upon me, when the silence rests like a blanket surrounding my body, when the aloneness is my only companion, I begin to feel it.
I call it restlessness.
I should be sleeping. And yet, in the lack of light I feel my eyes burn, feel my heart swelling up into my throat; the lull of the moon is such a powerful thing.
I can feel her pulling at my limbs, raising me from slumber, keeping my eyelids open for me. The noise in my head that is a hum in the day raises its voice.
My heart is the thunder and my thoughts rain relentless; My eyes, however, are my only friend. They are blank. Silent. Staring.
I can't run, can't sleep, and so I let the creatures of the night crawl forth and eat me alive.
The only thing that can keep my head above the inky black waters is the idea, the pale glimmer of hope that the sun will rise again and break the spell.
But once I have my daylight back, the gates close.
Anything that was me is left behind in the dark, put to sleep as I close my eyes.
Maybe it's better this way. But it isn't a coincidence that the you that dares to venture out right before you fall asleep has your eyes.