English: abstract art,compo;222.775ps. oil on ...
Photo credit: Wikipedia

What dwells in the night
That I dwell most on
The magic that the night is?
Have you heard the
Whispering winds?
Listen carefully and behold
The illusion that life is.

An angry cry
Of a hungry baby,
A distant sound of a
Distant car moving,
A sorrowful howl of a
Heartbroken dog,
Adds to the heaviness
In the air.

The soft wind,
As it passes by,
Mischievously teases the leaves.
And they swoon
As if hypnotised,
Dancing to its tune.
The trees on the other hand,
So mighty and tall,
Stand still,
So uncompromising.

Not so far away from me,
I hear her almost every night,
A youthful laughter of a
Toothless old age.

Every night,
The constant bickering
Of kitchen utensils,
The whirring fan
Over a snoring man
Drowns the pulsating sound
Of time.

Such a cacophony
In the night
Kindles a voice within me.
What dwells in the night,
That I delve most in?
I have turned it upside down,
Pulled it inside out,
Cut, stretched, filled and buried,
The subtle night, nevertheless,
Doesn’t seem to oblige.


2 Comments Add yours

  1. Writing Jobs says:

    That was an excellent post today. Thanks for sharing. I really enjoyed it very much.

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