Silence of the Night. . .


While the world comforts for a good night’s sleep,

preparing itself for the next morning,
to climb the steep
surface of life
or to face the masked truth,
they have been brought up with and stood.

Some have made their beds neat and warm,
before the winter hits its dawn.

Some fall asleep with uncovered feelings,
to the favourite background music playing.

Some may doze off to the lifeless thoughts,
with emotions buried long ago
in the depth of their hearts.

Some stay awake and prowl in the dark night,
prepared
to kill the next coming day.

Some make love to their wives
without touching their souls,
or knowing them.

Some young dreamers
imagine their lives to be filled with 
beauty of purpose and passion,
which will freeze into ice
with the winter storm.

Only some misfits,
pure work of art
and not genius,
the souls that have not been
felt by any human heart yet,
remain pure as the silver.
They isolate themselves
into the silence of the night.

For the night is when
they hypnotize the time
to enter another realm,
like the one
they have always dreamt.

Where their aloof thoughts
revive their imagination.
It is the reality they live,
and not desire.
This is where they sometimes
use colours to craft their life’s mural,
or reconstruct it.

This is where they hold the pen tight
near the nib and vent out
every single metaphor
for
desire,
pain,
agony,
love,
lust,
misery,
guilt,
burden,
and sometimes,
even happiness.
Only to discover themselves.

This is where their scribbled madness
is not understood,
but, sometimes
in the deep silence of the night
they may be lured to
other captivating souls
seeking out to colour themselves,
between the lines
with nothing but,
erotic words
that make romance.

These words heal up their emotions
and warm up their dead hearts,
but, before they realize
it fades away long before the sunrise.

Some things perhaps,
fade away
in the
silence of the night. . .

~ Kabir Malik
18th, November, 2015

silence of the night 1

 

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