Night is upon us,
So predictable, yet so unexpected.
We anticipated all would glow ever brighter until we were bathed in perpetual gold,
But now we are surrounded by absence.
I'm a little light bulb, hanging on the tree.
Though you use me every year, you never think of me.
Wasting electricity on twinkly lights to bring pleasure to your lives,
But you could get the very same thing by looking at the skies...
This website showcases content created by Eric Priezkalns, who also uses the pen name Ray Blank when writing science fiction. It includes stories, essays, poems, short films and audio recordings.