The Owl's Nest-The Nocturnal Imperative

[Miss Lockheart]

That should go in the reminicing thread

[Zotar]

um ok... just as soon as i find it. Someone Moved it.

[NeoFighter5]

firesnake.. . . . ...

[Miss Lockheart]

Nah he wouldn't do that, the reminicing thread is just too funny...

[MidgarFanatic]

I've been having some trouble with insomnia lately (runs in the family), so I've actually been up pretty late lately and it hasn't been by choice. But that makes this group perfect for me. On the weekends I'm usually a real night owl by choice, but I get pretty exhausted throughout the week when I'm only getting three or four hours sleep but then having to get up early in the morning and having to go to work all day. Hopefully this'll pass, but in the meantime I'm usually here or around here throughout the night.

[Terminal Est]

Darkness, and night. It is such a mystery to some, such an unattainable element to others. Throughout history, poets have been influenced by the stars, and philosophers have flourished their insights by the light of the moon, with the serenity it offers, with its calm and seemingly watching light.

It has spawned fears in most, conditioned tales, myth and has prompted to seek comfort, guidance and security.

The fear attracts them like moths, without knowing why the night is so omniscient, without knowing what it hides but still wanting its secrets, or despite scientific discovery, why it makes us feel the way it does.

People have chased the night, while some have been chased by it. It inspires magic and unforgettable memories, weather by a lake or in the back seat of a car, it has also drawn fear and sorrow, with murder and fits of drunken bouts, where the night has taken away sanity and left us raving at the moon...given back again by the day, only to define night as even more mysterious, frightening and alluring.
Watch a tree during the day, it is naught but a tree. See this same tree during the dead hours of the night on a moonless sky, and it becomes everything. A graveyard is serene and nice during the day, but it lives during the night.
The dead they whisper, the grass it dances, the wind it caresses.

Lights flicker, and like new born children, are weak and frail, and make you forget all the black things within your wretched self.

The snow sparkles with a thousand fragments, or is but a shadow of the night. You might imagine fairies scampering around your feet or fleeting by your face-in the day you shall only laugh at such an idea.

We who love the night and claim to be its children, in the end, will never really be a part of it. It is like a hot guy I cannot get. It seems merely a fantasy.

Sleep...those little slice of death. How I loathe them...

Everyone knows why night exists, but despite such, our minds are washed by its darkness, what we know is ridiculed by the shadows, and the owl watches you from above and knows.

Silence in the day is merely the absence of activity...silence at night is its watchful eyes, the screams of the wounded or the ecstatic or the fearful its communication.

A foreboding elements which rips my yearning from me and presents it to me, haunts me with insomnia and nightmares when it does decide to tuck me in, punishing me for my nights in the hyper and false securities of the cities. Blinding lights locating hotels or beer vendors, convenient places to say stupid things to supposed lovers while they make all their potential children race towards the womb.
It punishes you because it alone is enough for blinding raves.

Or perhaps it does not care, and like an indifferent god, only toys with me. But it creates memories, insights, stirs the Sun boiled stagnation within my skull, and weaves and braids my dying hair...flat and dead during the day, I am the target for label and judgement, the night takes it away and shows me what I really am-allowing me to stay sane as it does.

It leaves me in the dreaded morn, that time I hate so much, with its singing birds and waking persons and muttering lawnmowers, with my own reflections.

As a werewolf the night transforms me, for the best or for the worse. It underlines everything. Depression, joy, anxiety, anticipation, love and hatred, resentment and desire.

I know everything about the night, and claim to be its child, yet it does what it will, and makes me yearn even more for things I know nothing of.

If the night could make love to me, I would be its willing slave, if it wished to bury me in its abyss, I would jump before it could push me.
...if it has a secret, or if it is merely because it is not my element...

Also it makes me say weird shit. XD

[Miss Lockheart]

How I've missed your posts Termie!

[Firesnake]

Aah yes my "big sister" likes to post lot's of interresting, clever and yet confusing posts :P

for me night is the most beautifull time of the day ^^

[Terminal Est]

*Laughs!*

That was just as delightfully confusing, little brother.

Also in my earlier post I contradict myself.

Oh well, it was more for fun then for anything else...now then, night has settled once again. Well, evening perhaps, but I love it just as much.

[Miss Lockheart]

Hehehe on a completely random note, Jonny just came in to see what I'm doing and he saw your name on the "who's online" part. You are officially the greeeeeeeeeeennn!!!