The Voice Of The Sleepless Elite Poem by Prabal Dev

When half they pass the sleepless night
For loneliness may not near
And stay away from irrational fright
Their voice they do hear.

It’s not of their ghastly tales
Neither their crazy babble
But of their sensible self
That makes them to themselves mumble.

For this night shall be yet another timeless one
And half of the deeds have been done
Half more they will sure do
To meet the morning sun.

Infirmity is not the cause
Not obligation, not restriction
What makes their nights sleepless
Is driven by their passion.

The passion is fire
Which burns like a newborn sun
Hotter than the corona itself
Smother to it can none.

They burn their midnight oil
To illuminate themselves for the war ahead
And sharpen their weapons for the same
To win the battle in their name.

This is their voice they hear every night
Yet without words, without moving lips they do say
More mute than anything else
Still echoes in them the whole day.