The Northern Lights, in the clear sky.
Reflected in all the windows. In the metal cladding.
A storm of light. A flashing of light. A shouting of light.
Screaming for nothing. Meaning nothing. Flaunting – itself. Brazen. Blazing.
What message is it sending? What does nothingness want to say?
Is it full of horror at itself? Is it ashamed of itself? In its brazen non-shame? Is it self-horror, flashing? Because that would at least be something.
Flashing horror. Flashing blind.
Nothing, nothing, nothing in the skies.
Work in Progress 