FREE VERSE

Past Midnight

A brief escape into the silent black

Venkataraman Mahalingam
Weeds & Wildflowers
2 min readJul 17, 2021

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Sleep peeps in through keyhole as the Midnight hour passes. Location: Bangalore, India, Photo Credit: Author

A warm reading lamp still draws moths from the night.
Past midnight, just a bit, not too long.
Moonlight masked bit and bit, the Hour drawing curtains as it moves.
The cool shade we seek from heat;
shows us true pitch-black before the morning twilight.

There is a tinge of burning in my eyes; I can feel drowsiness on its way.
Out there somewhere, or at the door,
This bell that has not yet knell; packs nervousness in my wait.
Sleep awkwardly paces; out by the foyer,
wondering if it is a bit too early to join the Jamboree.

Music in that hour makes so much more sense;
songs become so much more personal and intense.
A peaceful palace built with the hour hand,
The tunes from your earphones painting the beautiful land.

Few sudden buzzes from my mobile, these gentle buzzes make me smile,
I look and see messages from someone close;
the smile stretches further as a short conversation begins.
These moments feel suspended, yet time flies.

It is always then; that the mind chooses to work,
Stories of the past, ideas from the night, and maybe genius strikes.
Overflow of emotions and thoughts;
that keeps you up, well past midnight.

Why must the day be deprived of these thoughts had at night!
The poets and writers wake, pushed to choose between epiphanies and sleep.

The night that is black and blank; feels cold yet warm, chilly yet snug.
I realize the new day has started not yet begun, waiting for the dawn to come.

At this moment, like every night, I want Time to stop for me.
Hoping to avoid something that has already happened,
Silently wishing for tomorrow not to come.
For this personal palace to stay, and for once, not be shattered
by the light of the Sun.

The Jamboree was in full force, soirée in full swing,
My hands battle the closing hour hand. Struggling to keep it open.
Sleep slams the door down with a good swift kick,
Catching our battle in its thick.
Time smirks, for backup has arrived!
My battle lost, again, clear from my bloodshot eyes.

A gentle touch that knocks me out.
My cheeks glow; Sleep kissed me good night.
The world turns sideways as Time tucks me in,
I grumble, mumble, then relax, for tomorrow, we battle again.
Sometime past midnight.

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Venkataraman Mahalingam
Weeds & Wildflowers

I write to spark ideas, experiences and narratives floating about—Passionate about a good story, a fun plan & a fresh perspective—RE Bullet 500 is what I ride