Past Midnight Poem by Hasan Haskovic

Past Midnight

Yes, it is silence
The dark horseman
He who plagues the night
He who haunts and he who taunts
Before escaping the rays of morning light

Where does he hide away
During the long hours in between
Does he curse the birth of a new day
Or does he simply remain silent
For is there something he can say?

I rather believe
That even he did not wish to turn this way
But there is steam in the soul
Which through his ebon gleam can not ebb away

Run away another day
To some place far
Where you can stay
'till the headlights die
And the highways close
Tread softly upon the empty road
And step by step
You'll stop wondering where it goes
We have all done so long ago, I suppose
So...where's the catch?

The darkness sleeps not under your bed
But rather it troubles your heart and aches your head
No matches that could set these ruins to fire
No key that could lock away the rubble
No method other than cheap joys to drown the desire
I'll not burst your bubble
Realism can handle that, on it's own

Yes, it is the fear
The moments between seconds
And the hours between where the Sun beckons
But the whole scheme is far too grand
For a mere child to see it
Even more so for him to understand
The edges are dreary and the boundaries
Are far too bland
But one day, it will shatter
And he will put it back together
Slowly, hand by hand

Embrace the rising Sun
Our ending, and where we had begun
For just like the light
Truth can not be outrun

I will never be undone

Thursday, March 12, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: night
Hasan Haskovic

Hasan Haskovic

Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina
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