All things dark are heavy.

The senseless musings,
That just intermix and intertwine
From one platonic fact to another.
The time when sanity
Cracks a slap across the cheek
And still the difference,
Between alive and dead is fogged
In simple tales of delusion. 
The time when the night itself
Cannot decide between dusk or dawn,
And with the sombre confusion
The people are supposed
simply to breathe along.

The time when a muse less
Staring competition with the wall
Seems more sane than life.
The time when all the elixirs
And ambrosial drops of solutions
Gladly knock at your door,
Only for you to forget them
Another moment, another day.
The time when you one by one
Peel of your layers to your bare skin,
Afraid not of what is to come
But welcoming the dreary breathy silence.

The time when life is a tale
That has no ties with you
And is simply a movie to which
You are an avid audience.
The time when strangers
Fall in love with your words
And your words fall prey to love.

I won’t go elucidating how breathtaking
How magnificent 
How amusing 
The time of the night is 
When you bare your soul to life
And life bares its truth to you.
The time when the chime
Of each bell
The toll of every clock
Fades slowly, simply into nothingness.

The time when time is still
Like frozen with the raven blanket
Adorning the once blue top,
And stars like the ignored holes
Of day to day conflicts
From where light is seeping through.
The time when you just want
It to be like this forever
In the arms of Morpheus
Listening to your breaths
Like an understanding of the most vivid poetry,
That is time.

Ah! How beautiful
How enchanting 
Elusive yet Breathtaking.
The time when life and death
Collapse lovingly in an embrace
Of fate and destiny,
Like two lovers who were parted
A long time ago
And have finally found
Solace in that time of the night.

The time of the night when
Poets, writers and artists
Fret for much needed peace.
Peace from their own muses.
Trying to keep their sanity
Piece by piece together.
Yes! Finally you understood
The time of the night 
When lights are on 
Simply to keep on keeping on.

Ah the almost 3 of the night
When it is hard to decide
Between sleep and the temptation
To complete the last piece
You started, maybe destined
To be your next Magnum opus.
So maybe you give in 
To the claws of temptation
Or maybe you fall asleep.
It truly dosen’t matter
As long as it is that time of the night.

The almost three of the night.

Copyright Akanksha Krishnatre

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10 thoughts on “All things dark are heavy.

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