At last.
The morning of night has come. All can see the yellow moon reflect off the full
white sun. It's quiet, yet people cover their ears to block out the annoying
silence. A feeling of relaxation and anxiety fills their heartless loving
souls. It's now, never. It has started, yet not begun. Why? Why not? They run
as fast as they can, a snails pace. They can all see its invisible shape. It's
so small and massive. Just in time they don't escape. At last. The night of day
has come.
By Randall Dane Johnson II
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