the silver-plated eyelid of night closes over the light of day, and a heavy blue dust falls over the heaving sphere of the earth.
an imperceptible wind rises from the underground, the undergrowth lifting slightly in its wake. night scorpians emerge from under sleeping stones, clicking pincers in salute to the stars. snakes shed used skins, leaving behind them a hundred winding trails through the sand to the foot of an eternal jungle.
within the dense, steaming darkness, shadowed forms oscillate between columns of black that fall from the canopy above, gyrating in a frenzied ritual of movement. sounds of ecstasy rise from the nocturnal sprawl until they are again absorbed by the vastness of an open black sky.
the first teardrop of light falls from the sun as the golden eyelid opens on a new day. and all that is left of the night before are disturbances of the soil.