The night moon waits, lingering,
behind the evening clouds.
It was only noon
a few minutes ago,
sun shining,
largely with hope.
The day moon looked on then too,
faint but present,
with portents of things to come,
easily ignored by most of us.
When our final moment arrives,
as it assuredly must,
with a light brighter than
the moon and stars,
it will be in the middle of the night.
No matter the time.
One will know the past
ended last night,
and in the end,
our lives are simply stories,
and night comes all too soon.
The world will proceed
with its plan.
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