The Owl's Nest-The Nocturnal Imperative

[Terminal Est]

*Laughs!* Ooooh, the Green. I hope this did not scare him. XD

I am like, a good sort of Grinch. *Gives presents to all.*

[Tidus2791]

I am mostly online at night to but my night being different than most others am i qualified to join?

Unless creatures of the night means Vampires then I'm sure I'm qualified.

[Zotar]

Originally Posted by 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

Yet another confusingly profound, poetically insightful, yet interestingly monotonous post brought to you by Terminal Est! (Gee that was a mouthful.)

All I can say is "More! more! MORE!"

[Terminal Est]

Interestingly monotonous? How does that make sense? XD

But am glad you enjoyed it nonetheless.

And yes Tidus, of course you can join. Should you be unsure of your status or planet revolving situation, then simply bring an offering...Firesnake will most likely steal it, but yes...

[Miss Lockheart]

Originally Posted by Terminal Est

*Laughs!* Ooooh, the Green. I hope this did not scare him. XD

I am like, a good sort of Grinch. *Gives presents to all.*

Nah he wasn't scared at all, more like overly excited...toddlers fear nothing

He's more of a creature of the night than I am...

And I agree, more more!!!

[Terminal Est]

The Night makes me realize that every long winded and seemingly clever and insightful idea and theory I come up with are naught but a reflection of the self, and a manifestation of my struggles and miseries. I wonder then, if all those philosophers thought that when suggesting their thesis and books.

But I am not that cultivated, and must indeed thank the night for allowing me to hold mine own entrails without dying.

We begin with high hopes and dreams, then bottle everything up...justify it with superficial ideas and condition these as our marks until death. Graves just in case, preordered tombstones, that is all what we claim to stand for really means.
But to look into the black eye of night, this truth is showed and relieved. Those who sleep during the night will fail to see what one may learn while sleeping during the day...

As the veil of a fallen bride the cold air of night sends shivers raging across the skin, and one realizes the futility of finding warmth.
Be it the cool playful kiss of night or the lashing whips of winter, it makes you walk forth to find relief. It does the same with your dark thoughts, your pains, your miseries and anxieties. It sets boundaries for hope and love, keeping you in a state of realism, all the while contradicting logic with a enchanting mystery.
Like magic.
Even those lost within enamored kisses know that the night will end, bringing a stop to their magic, and making them go to the clinic for HIV tests.

The night speaks, and is the true mirror of the self. For we know that the dark is nothing of which to be afeared, but instead, one must fear what hides within the shadows and covered corners of the night...but so few listen. Is the symphony to render one bamboozled, or can some simply not hold their own guts?

What is the night, if not a time for reflection? A piece of serenity, or a hand which brings meat to the beast within? A time to indulge in one's inner storm? To participate in the chaos next door?
Nobody knows what truly lurks behind the intentions and darkness of the sky, but everyone reacts to it, in some way or another.

The stars may speak in riddles, but should you lose yourself in their cold or warm stares, and simply listen to the wind, you might learn something. A deep secret about yourself, hidden like a long lost treasure...or cadaver.
Enhancing the faculties, even the cold veil of a dead bride seems more appealing then the cacophonic chaos of the day.

The night may be unbearably hot, as well...many hot summer nights have I spent by the river, on a bridge or in the slumbering cities. On my own, tired and exhausted, sitting by a church, so much more welcoming without the accusing stares of its inhabitants.
This is right! The night is my cathedral, telling me that the cities in which I wander may be dead, but at least it is honest. In the day, the cities forget to die, and struggle like ruined persons, crawling to find again a reason to live, to find what was once important. A maiden cries, and her tears may be the most valuable things on the Earth.
When she is taken to bed, she becomes worthless. This is why the cities still strive in their undeath.
At least at night, they truly die, or live again with their lights, live for real, truly thrive. Ephemeral but genuine, like the beauty of a falling droplet of blood, before it crashes and wastes away on a pile of shit.

Alone I have stood and thought, with sweat falling from my brow, about things which today I still nurse as fallen memories. Because I thought of it at night? How absurd! I am a dead city just as much.
What defined me a unique has long been lost, but at night I may accept it...in the day, I do like the rest of the pack, break backs in every direction looking for something to mend my scars, and my futility. They only become even more infected, but the night feels sorry for me.

But it is as so, and I see now that the night keeps its secrets only for me. It may have something for you, were you not to be tempted by your covers and pillow. They are the true work of ruin! This parade of confusion will mean nothing to anyone but me, no matter how hard I try to describe my nocturnal chases in the wild or my lost treks to 7-Eleven.

I believe the darkness of night is a mirror to the self, to what surrounds you, an alternate means of understanding and honest perception...but as I am not the child of the night, I cannot know, I can only spill my ink in joy at what night gives me, and spill my blood in sorrow at what it takes.

But not being a part of the night. It is like always being pure, being a virgin forever. For if I was a part of it, surely its wonders and mystery would be gone.
What are all the chases for then?!
Aaahahaha what stupid beings we are. To claim to find the truth, then to accept ignorance. If it truly is no lie, then nobody can hold their own guts.

Futility is not so bad, when something else is replaced. The day is not so unbearable, when you know that is shall always fall prey to the wisdom of the owl, the music of the wolves and excited scuttles of the whores, fighters and criminals.

Something lost is always replaced by something you will always cherish, even if it is because that is all you have. A star will die, but another is born...it matters not if you see it or not, because the night obeys nobody. It lets the day live, if only to define itself.
And it certainly does not need to.

I only have the night which breathes life into my jaded soul, whatever that is, and like a puppet gently takes me to my grail.

Did all those philosophers speak nonsense, and are all those poets suffering from brain deficiency?

Who knows, I only know that night is like drink, and always washes me away in delightful fear, sweet sorrow and makes me appreciate my miserable self. With its dark cloak, it only says it would like to adopt me, before throwing me back upon my knees to slave and grovel at those fiends during the day who would tear me to bits.
It mends me together again when it returns, I am nothing but its toy. I am a joke, and a mistake-but the night isn't an asshole about it like the day is.

[JET73L]

Oooh, boy. the front lobes of my brain are dripping through my ocular nerves. Long-winded post, indeed. Though, I wish I had noticed this thread in its earlier stages, for I too am an insomniac, and prefer darkness (and particularly dimness) to light (especially really bright light), and only recentyly have been posting mainly during the hours of the sun.

Originally Posted by Terminal Est

Interestingly monotonous? How does that make sense? XD

Like Poe's The Raven. Best heard with a nonotonous drone, though with a complex tempo.
(not saying your posts are scary. or in rhyme. or more than a century old)

[Miss Lockheart]

Originally Posted by JET73L

Like Poe's The Raven. Best heard with a nonotonous drone, though with a complex tempo.
(not saying your posts are scary. or in rhyme. or more than a century old)

*laughs* I know what you mean

[Terminal Est]

Wait, there was an Edgar Allen Poe reference and I missed it?

I must purge myself.

Incidentally, there are several references to Poe in both my posts.

[Firesnake]

wow I must read his work sometimes .... me post usually get as far as webcomic references :P
(is jealous of Termie's cool title :P)
What is more fun than reading a scary zombie novel in the dark with a flashlight?