Five Seconds Before Midnight
I always wander five seconds before Midnight When hedonistic portals open for nocturnal delights. Those five short-lasting, memorating incidents bidding me welcome. Momentary reflections arrive and then the gates grab me by the feet and the shadows swallow my mind and body. Visions spiral into collective clarity caught between hours of repressed dreaming. That everlasting imagination now buried beneath information of unwanted realities. There a storm commences, incepting in my neck and spreading to my throat. Breezing through broken souls the reaper of moonlight calls— The wind — a wizard of treachery choking dead air to pieces, stirring sparsely spurred spirits Into deafening despair. Levity led astray by bygone days of recurring depravity Still existing in alternate eternities. I ask myself what this death might mean? how and why this might had been bestowed upon me? The answer delayed — stretching out the flames of this burning conscience; no repose awaits for those without remorse, when there’s still time to change course. Once the clock strikes 24 I wonder no more; the epiphany extends beyond the eclipsed awakening — Who shall collect its remnants?
Cover Art: Aeneas and the Sibyl in the Underworld by Jan Brueghel the Younger, 1630s
Nothing good happens after midnight
"I ask myself what this death might mean? / how and why this might had been bestowed upon me?" Many a time I've looked up at my own ceiling in the dead of night and pondered this exact question. And that's me being sober, Lord help me. Still ultimately an entirely necessary experience. Articulated wonderfully by you of course. Let's hope we can make something of these remnants we're left with 🌹