Cloak of night. Eyes of night. Hair of night…
No.
This wind would make my eyes water, were it not for -
No. Around you.
The hoarse cawing of a raven. Far away. A brisk wind. The kind that makes old tales wonderful. Stars dotting a clear sky. Clear enough to reach out and make ripples in. A streetlamp's dusty, yellow tint. It falls, casting fantastic shadows. Shadows that dance and waver uneasily…
There.
I would be cold if I could be. No. It's just night. Just like any other. It's cold and I know it but it doesn't really matter. It never really has.
You lost it again.
It's a sharp wind. It creeps under clothes, nips teasingly at the back of your neck. If you opened your mouth it would clamp onto your tongue. A greedy wind, it wants whatever it can find. And looks for whatever it can't.
The moon is smirking at me –
No.
Leering, one might say of the moon this night. Smirking with mirth at a lowly planet. Men have cast down their gazes at such a moon, feeling the heat of a gaze mirroring that of everything they refuse to admit of themselves. Man is a dark race, flinching from mirrors, dodging beams of light.
Yes. Now.
I am musing again. It is not rare that I muse. There is always something to muse over, to ponder. Always food undigested.
That is a repulsive analogy.
There is always something I have not yet figured out. There is always something that slips through my fingers, no matter how carefully I grip it. And I am always trying to find new ways to convince such things to stay in my hands long enough for me to examine them. Sometimes I wonder if they know how little I know. If they are merely playing dumb, or perhaps they aren't doing even that – if I'm too clueless to be aware of what they're thinking loud and clear.
You sound like such a sap.
Sometimes I wish I could be one of them. To feel every little joy and every little pain – to be affected by everything, and to be limited. It would be… an interesting experience, if nothing else. Nothing's ever really mattered for a long time now. I suppose I could learn a lot from being human.
That's a new one.
There are things an Endless may not ever understand. Things that are beyond our limitless scope. Perhaps not beyond… but undetectable. We can see such things, but we have no tools to neither examine, nor draw ourselves close. Such things are omnipresent, yet intangible. I mull over these things for reasons I have yet to understand.
Humanity never ceases to amaze me, but for now I think I shall be content discovering who I am in this form before probing another.
You wouldn't survive anyways.
Oh, shut up.