hollow

It was midnight-ish. The graveyard smelled like cold, old moss and decomposing flowers that are put on the headstones. I found a hole in the fence and shivered as I snuck through. I felt an immediate sense of peace. It was quiet, serene; there were whispering creatures, real and possibly metaphysical, that sensed we were there. The stars looked like crystals dumped amongst a sultry oil spill. The ground was moist, and would bellow in and sink beneath our footsteps. We whispered as we read the headstones and wondered about their lives. I had the brief realization that I would be there someday burried amongst the unknown. My life just a big question mark, just like the thousands already there. There was a clingy feeling in the air. It felt as if someone was pulling you in this direction and that. I tried to open my eyes to see what I might be missing, and I tried closing them to feel what I might be missing. But I just sat there. Listening. Breathing. Existing.