Night: I Write as a Person

I write as a person
Exploring the recesses of the night,
Throwing open the door,
Allowing some light,
Discovering
And developing diminoes
That are emerging,
Converging,
Diverging,
Disappearing
And then somehow re-emerging,
Coming back into the light,
Again and again,
While dominoes
Leaning upon one another,
Tumble by the wayside.
I observe existence
Somehow breaking through,
Coming from somewhere
That appears to be nowhere,
As it seems not to be,
At all anywhere. 
Who knows where
What comes into existence
Really comes from?

Why does it suddenly emerge?
How does it appear
On the horizon
Of what seems to be nothingness?
Simply because
What is to be,
Is?
I search the black night,
Probing for signs of existence,
Prying with curiosity,
Into the how, why, what, when and where
Of the existence
That appears to be emerging,
While seemingly incapable of revealing itself
And yet ever self revealing,
Even capable of disappearing,
And re-appearing
Miraculously,
In reality's world.
I question reality's hold on life
And life's hold on reality,
While composing a discourse
On what appears not to be,
But in reality,
Is actually a dimino.
I write as a person
Exploring the recesses of the night.

A poet explores the recesses of night.