Pitch Black

When the night begins to fill the earth, there is nothing different in every night that is present in his presence. All rights are the same. Gray, black and silent. But the night is always missed by everyone who loves the atmosphere of the night. The wind blows at night. According to them, the night wind is different from the wind that blows in the morning or afternoon. The night breeze gives more peace, bringing the atmosphere of the night to the ground that grows lush trees for dancing.

The ground during the day is dry and dusty, covered by the darkness of the night and also the wet sighs of dew-drenched by the mist carried by the wind. Maybe it was because the sun had gone that the dew dared to appear. Maybe also because of languishing. Wouldn't the dew disappear if it was exposed to the sun's rays? The towering trees are the best match? They need each other. When the two are separated, what is created is nothingness. And he felt very sorry to see that the brownish expanse of land would be filled with fallen dry leaves that died.

All that remained was a stretch of brown soil that accommodated the fallen leaves. Maybe in a few moments, it will turn into a natural fertilizer that will give fertility to the earth, everything happens in seconds that occur even though it is filled with silence.

They are disappointed. when it is changed and consumed at the mercy of man. Does no one understand? Or is that the only thing that will be daily entertainment for humans, leveling and eliminating. Making the dry season even drier. And in the rainy season, it makes floods hit. Secretly they hoped that the surrender could go away to bring forth beautiful, radiant seasons.

The night wind that blows makes tired healed in the dim night. Return to fertilize the expanse of brown soil that is always in its path. A small tree stands still, reaching for the wind rolls like waves. Who passed and went to him. The little tree forgot about its existence with the others, silent again in the solitude of the night.

And even a longing as big as a mountain could not compel him to seek. He always wanted to go. Go to a place where he doesn't feel like a rare little tree lost on earth. Go to a place where humans don't think life is too simple to be lived with things filled with lust and emotions. Although no one can force him to stay, what can he do is just a small tree that is left behind.

Up there it was pitch black. The light of the crescent moon is not enough to give light. The light was blocked by black clouds mingling with the wind that blew last night, now getting crazier. The little tree smiled in the middle of the dark night. Maybe for such a quiet night, the rainwater would drown his trunk and stop the sound of the crickets hiding behind the bushes far away.

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