Yellowstone at Night
I feel the book on my lap,
but am compelled by the
space between the trees
to look outside instead.
The emptiness is cavernous,
the inside of a dragon, filled
with the places where fire
ought to be. Trees line the
road, just visible in the
circles of the headlights.
What was busy this morning
is now deserted, empty,
barren, transformed to an
eerie landscape in just
the blink of an eye. Two
white lines stretching,
stretching endlessly into
nothingness. It is quiet now,
gone are the sounds of the
tourists, the rangers, the cars.
The silence is almost oppressive,
constantly reminding me that the
world turns without me, dragging
me along. The silence becomes
welcome, inviting my mind to stop,
to pause in its perpetual motion
machine of thoughts.
But meters away from me, I
know the geysers still erupt,
no one to watch, but nature
continues, uncaring about
our schedule. The land goes on,
acting as if it is not night, as if it is
not time to sleep. The geysers
explode, throwing water to the
sky, trying to reach the heavens.
The water scorches and kills all
it touches, but life has moved
around it. Now this life
sleeps, but the geysers go on,
not needing light to survive.