The eyelids quiver, drooping against what was an hour ago docile but now the seemingly burning sharp luminance of the white LED that hangs unceremoniously by a wire off the slightly wrinkled paler roof. The pupil, concentrating at nothing in particular, lost in an empty vastness, the eyelids feel heavy on touch against the corneal surface; the upper lashes that have been courting the bottom ones every few seconds through the day, in the fleeting momentary blinks that are now considerably labored, want to now desperately just be one with the other. Past the pulled floral curtains, the drawn wooden blinds, and the double glazed windows - partially ajar in hope of a cooling draft against the musty heavy artificial warmth of the gas heating inside - in the still setting summer light, the dusk impending, the busy sounds of activity that characterized the day now urgently recede into a hazy void, now all but a vague incomprehensibility to my ears; The birds, also somnolent, are enroute to or are already settled in the warm cushiness of their beds of twigs and straw. Almost in tandem with the other diurnal beings, they offer gratitude to the sun, the earth, the air, the clouds, the wind, the moon now visible on the horizon, the stars and the sea, with a final courteous chirp, as they settle in for the night, wrapped up tightly in the comfort of their feathers, the face tightly tucked in, as I too silence the harsh white light and lose myself inside the duvet and the languorous depths of sweet oblivion, yearning for a beautiful tomorrow.
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