Being Poem by Lee Gelis

Not all are keen for the night,
An endless sense of wakeness,
Clawing always at the soul, wanting
To do something so atavistic and
Primeval that perhaps not even
Our brightest collective minds
Could contain it. Time and time
Again as we watch the moon
Pass by, waning and waxing in its
Neverending alien phases, as we
Watch the trees blow side to side,
We are left seeing only ourselves
In the darkness. In the daytime there
Are others, dressing and talking
And existing; in the darkness, there
Is only being. There are no answers
To the great questions, but there
Is identity. There is always a self.
But what great shame it is to know
These things, these torches in the
Dark, and have to keep them to the
Self. What great shame it is to
Exist without being.