Solitude...

Faint kitchen counter lights are one of two only sources of light in the room.
High rises outside the window have very few lights this late at night.
The dark sky around them tinted with the orange haze of the city street lights.
Lying under it, a pitch black yet shimmering giant stretching out into the horizon.

The other, is the ghostly and wide TV screen.
On it, a favorite show of mine, about a powerful man hungry for more power,
and his quest to destroy those who betrayed him.
Surrounded by other powerful men, some with him, some against.

I am watching and I am thinking, why is it that I like this show so much.
Why is it that I love his chief of staff's apartment.
Even though it is laden with grays, blacks, browns and cold steel.
And - ironically - mostly dim lights...

Only then do I realize, perhaps this is where I feel I belong.
Alone, comfortable, "free", in the desolation of darkness.
Like powerful men, preferring a lonely throne over a people-packed party.
As though in a cold, icy dream, under a steel sky.