Stillness
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.
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.