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Its 3am.

Way passed the sleep hour.

I stand surrounded in surreal stillness.

This moon shy night admits no ray.

No thought

Penetrates my mind. A church bell chimes:

Tick thrice.

And the deadly silence strikes

That deep dark hole of the head.

Nothing is awake.

Nothing moves.

Yet, something appeals. I know it is out there.

But where?

Minutes tick by.

The devastating silence is deafening.

Yet, I stand amidst this loneliness,

Gazing into the nothingness

That this night has blessed upon me.

Nature presents its all.

This midnight feast has gained its all,

Of stillness; ever moving stillness which stops at nothing.

As dawn would soon break, the night has offered its splendor.

And I; still, like the world around me

Has tasted a-plenty.

As my bed beckons, I shall surely come here once more

And take in the stillness twice more.

This stillness, tonight, has appealed to me.


But I must be gone.

Before Dawn.


◄ Nature reclaimed

Significance of the Nineteenth Autumn ►


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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Tue 9th Sep 2014 10:54

This is an excellent theme, and very atmospheric in development.

IMO, it runs into wordiness which, if sensitively culled, would leave a more impactive poem, without loss of intent.

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