2 a.m.

The earth just had its bath
And the temperature is on the low.
The sky is clothed with clouds.
Shy to reveal the nudity of its expanse.
I stare outside my window.
The street is bare and deafened.
In the absence of noise
I am silenced in mystery.

Faint murmurs I heard from somewhere.
Unfamiliar notes of grievance.
They echoes with same resonant non-stop
I search all around but not within me.
Its 2 a.m. and sleep is far from bed.
The pillow lies stark naked.
My brain speaks unhappily the dead thoughts.
Yes, the unfamiliar notes of grievance.
Buried deep years ago, the pantomime begins.

Nature sleeps without a bed, a mat, a pillow and a blanket.
But, in slumber her dreams carried her peacefully.
I sleep with a bed, a mat, pillow and a blanket
But, the amber keeps burning the blood of past.
The night is awakened and I am bludgeoned.
Nothing but mind woven with pain and neglect.
With unwanted fraternity of desires I am floating.
The street lights, in silence brighten themselves.
Along with the trees in joy greets the nature.
Man at 2 a.m. staring out of the window mournfully.

At 2 a.m
I am almost as good as dead
With thoughts livelier.


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