The Spectacle

Contemplating the silence of the night,
with the worldly bedlam
of my daily existence,
giving in to my iconoclastic misgivings,
not intending, nor expecting,
to find an answer,

I squat on the floor,
wide awake, gazing out.

Hanging outside the window,
the luminescence of a petrified night,
stares into my myopic eye.

Finding solace in my darkest hour,
she puffs a mouthful in my face,
my world gleamed at once,
a thousand epiphanies arose.

I didn't have my spectacles on.