The night’s showering moon wraps me into a dark blanket, covering my mind and then binding me to the aura’s view glooming outside my window. My eyes sleep with tranquility, as the empty darkness watching me in the miasma, like the black, invisible spider crawling into my open mouth. The gentle, warping state of empty nothingness is pleasant, without any blinding sound roaring in my ears or the screech of crashing cars. I must all commence an ending, the descending manly moon, subsiding back into the mountains, together for another night, as it utterly has no lunar shine.