The Pen and The Wind

I needed to write, 
But I had no inspiration,
So I abandoned my laptop,
And stepped out of my hell of a home,
To abandon it all, 
And just stare at the stars a bit,
Soak up the night,
Experience the entirety of the cosmos,
If only for a brief bit.  

But when I lied down, 
There were clouds hanging in the night,
Blocking my view,
Clouding my inspiration,
And my very thoughts,
I was a hollow shell underneath a dark sky.

And instead of stars I melted into that murky darkness,
Melted into a ink black,
And I simply felt nothing,
Not anger or sorrow,
A profound lack of anything,
I found the nihilist’s void, 
And in it found horror,
For it’s pure desire to destroy all,
And make everything into it’s nothing.

With that I snapped to,
And rushed back inside,
I can deal in light,
And I make home in shadows,
I revel in the starlight of the night,
But the nothingness that lies under night’s clouds,
Is a sight too horrible for anyone.