Light fading in winter

I react to the light leaving these days. As a creature of the night I wouldn't think that the loss of the light would bother me as much as it does. Yet nightly, I find myself curled up next to my window watching as the last rays of the light fade into their misty glow. Then all the lights come on, every one in my room, as I try to make up for the gentle warm light brought in from our glorious Sol, our unnamed sun. Eventually I'll let the curtains fall and accept the coming of the night. Then one by one I'll turn off my lights, as they prick my eyes into irritation and I decide the comfort of darkness is much more desired. Then come creativity in all her guises, precious muse to whisper in my ear. Let the hours not be marked, exhaustion my only timer, and darkness the cover to my creation. One day it will be by light seen, but for now, it is in its rawest form, a fresh cut ore and with my own fires I will refine it.
And so the night continues.