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It was there. My soul is empty. At loss. Longing for something drastically more important than the night would suffice. As the sun sinks the ocean of thoughts usually arise. But it seems instead this ocean does not have its wonderful, flavourful salt, but rather a silty muck. Blind to the next particulate, usually an ever so shiny reflection of the beautiful sun. And to an ocean dweller, maybe even a sun itself. The muck causes this creature to look elsewhere, inwardly to what may outwardly light. Not to a creature as this. A transparent sponge. Absorbing radiation. However, the creature’s brilliance fades as physical law would have it. A need to balance. It was there. My soul is empty.