My Backyard Horror

My kitchen window, my back patio,
I see it while I’m standing at the sink,
and in the past, at night, its mystery
was less because my neighbor’s kitchen light
somewhat illuminated my backyard.
But recently since I had surgery,
my urinary function was restored
and I got up much more infrequently,
 to use the bathroom than I did before.
I also noticed that they kept it off,
the neighbor’s light I saw less frequently,
and now the only light into my yard
was what the Moon’s reflection generates.
It varies nightly how bright it will shine.
My practice was to nightly shut the blinds.
Their light, so bright, it always woke me up
much more than, in that early morning time,
I wished, still dark and I, with my intent,
to go to bed and sleep a little more
before the dawn when waking was my norm.

Now, just the moon lights up my patio
and I remembered previously why
I’d closed the blinds, not only to block out
the neighbor’s light but to occult my view.
I thought I rather would be ignorant
of any paranormal happenings
in my backyard that I might witness there
illuminated solely by the Moon.
But now my neighbor’s light had been turned off
and I no longer had a good excuse
to take the extra step to close the blinds
each night when I’d prepare to go to sleep.
The only reason that I then would have:
indulging in my fear perennial 
that some night I would see in my backyard
some being strange and supernatural.
As I saw it, it would be watching me,
and it would have that strange capacity
to pass through walls or locks to disengage,
that, physical, no means could him repel.
And my imagined ghostly visitor,
if he was there, I’d rather not him see.
In ignorance to bed I would proceed,
and, of exhaustion, I would have that sleep.
The specter, somehow he would pity me,
and, to his nether world, he would recede.
But what persists: my curiosity.
If there was something ordinarily
not present, I could witness what might be
akin to what they had experienced,
those people who had visitors at night,
or saw some beings standing by their bed,
gray aliens who wanted to abduct
them to perform their strange experiments.
The thought of this, it fills me with great fear.
I pray that I would not experience
such frightening event, yet underneath,
still curiosity of what exists
and fascination. Now, just in my mind
where this occurs. If, in reality,
I might experience some bodily
harm, but by far, what is more permanent:
the trauma wreaked on my psychology
because of that great fright, yet pref’rably,
I’d rather know the truth, or possibly,
the only way I will experience
these things is if, in them, I would believe
as genuine, real possibilities.
In writing of them here I have increased
the likelihood that those realities
would intersect ours dimensionally.