Dark night, but for the moonlight splintering through the clouds. You are submerged in heavy humidity, exhaling dry heat, struggling to breathe. You ignite a fire beneath the tarpaulin. You reach! The inspiration is fleeing. The back-lit object of your desire leaves you wanting calmness. Where the light comes from there is sadness. You are lost, but not for lack of road-signs.
by Thomas Wigington