Thoughts for the Night-time

Night serves a grand purpose. I'm often surprised at how profaned that purpose is in our American lives. Did you know that the moon glows enough to illuminate the trees and stones, but not the working fields? That's what the day light is for. Sunset and beyond reserve a special purpose for us: repose.
We in kind reflect in the night times. The day has ended, released its grip. Certain tasks cannot help but carry over into the next day, but the moon shines blankly as if to say, "There's nothing to be done about them now." The inspiration of thought comes naturally at night.
That's probably why so many of us are divided into morning-people or night-people. How ironic that the morning people can, in the contemporary man's view, achieve so much and still be so unfulfilled at the end of the day. Carrying work through the night, things like 24-hr groceries and coffee shops, is the morning people's folly. What a crime of humanity. It disgusts me on some levels, to think of people driving forward so much duty without a glance backward at the slower-paced ideas like reflection, progress, and understanding. Well, at least there's the night-people.
Rewarded as little (materially) as they are, the night people represent some of the most truly happy people I've seen. "Sluggard" is often the term for someone who wakes up at 1:00 p.m. I wonder what that person did with their night. What are some of the things people can do in the night? Aside from everything that we have to amuse ourselves, the night people have a propensity for conversation. If the sun shines in the day to produce grass, the stars at night merely twinkle and glitter to fill in the millions of light-years between themselves. We night-people twinkle to each other (what I'm doing now can only be described like that as I meander across my topic) about life, the universe, and everything.
I wondered today about how people pursue everything. Between fame and money, all of us have found something we've oriented our life towards. Not all of those directions lead to understanding, and often the one we choose is not the one we finish with. Finishing... that's a funny one. Does anyone ever finish what they start? Sure, the dishes are done--but they are done for now. Tomorrow brings a whole new set of numbers to plug in, another pile of leaves to rake. The days do fill themselves up, and the morning people take to it joyfully. But those are the ones disturbed by the sunset. Endings are cruel things to people who like to begin. But the night people take it in stride. They understand (because they've taken the time and thought of it) that with the close of each day, the potential for the next morning means life. To stop is to die. Just like this small essay--if I put a period now, the life of this piece ends. If you stop reading, it goes away. The night people accept this and sleep in, preparing for another long ending. As I turn in for night, I think I can hear the stars twinkling amongst themselves, and I wonder what they say.