Do not go gentle into that good night

The night is dark with only plants and street lights. Shadows flicker and sway with the wind, or sometimes stay quiet in tranquility. As I step into the hush of the night, a scared soul is screaming for help. The captivated, shackled soul. Who’s out there to hear? In the still of the night, all sound and colors are engulfed in the dark. There’s only nothingness. I’m lost in the dark, invisible and unheard. At end of day, what’s out there shining against the dark and consoling the restless soul? In the colorless and silent nights, each movement could blaze against the dying of the light.