In The Twilight (2A.M.)

Written in 2007, sat down on my stoop on Eagle st. watching life at 2 a.m. inspired with wondering if I were happy now and then.

Inspiration from stars and quiet traffic at 2 A.M.
every few minutes passing moments (like some heavenly eyes)
     a zooming of engines, rubber clapping on concrete
     cymbal crash of  silence twinkle, twinkle - the glitter
above in the galaxy's milky black cloak
the world in a hush, Mr. Sandman's composing
     sonata of deepest dreams... the world sleeps
     save for me, biographer for insomniacs,
observing the cricket loud stillness, unsure how to place
these words - a dweller  of this depth
     naming its nightly niceties mutely in lead
     now, even when if one waits for the wild to emerge
ragamuffins and crystal quick skaters streaming by
their nature & natural habitat - humanity in slumberland...
     I sit undiscovered or uncared for
     just another shadow in their halls of playgrounds
their song is rich with sorrow and wishes,
dark and sometimes beautiful
     like a requiem for half-living, half-awaken
     vision of nocturnal nirvanas
soft without the gravity of piercing words' reality
yet I can not see the faces or if
     happiness exists in them
     in the twilight / at 2 A.M.

Reviews

[J.P.O.et]

Oh man I love this one, you are talking to an insomniac here. I totally understand the silent nights on the stoop broken up by the occasional passerby and the wondering if they are just like you.
'the world in a hush, Mr. Sandman's composing�����
sonata of deepest dreams...the world sleeps�����
save for me, biographer for insomniacs,'� that you are and I like the musical reference with sonata etc.
'the cricket loud stillness' is phenomenal how you convey the cacophony of sounds that are somehow still/silent(cause they are so natural?).
'naming it's nightly niceties mutely in lead', well done with the lead referring to the pencil/pen.
In reference to the passerbys 'their song is rich with sorrow and wishes, dark and sometimes beautifull, like a requiem for half living...', as we all that are real are full of sorrows and wishes.� And of course the ending,
' yet I cannot see the faces or if������
happiness exists in them������
in the twilight/ at 2A.M.'
It is that mystery that possesses those of nocturnal tendencies to hide beneath the 'milky black cloak' and be what they are.� I obviously thoroughly enjoyed this piece and will add it to my lib.� Keep up this great writing and I will be sure to check your future posts.� Damn.
J.P.O.et�