Enveloping shadows, the light is yet to arrive,
many thoughts come visiting many leave lingering,
many memories torment, advents a slow breeze,
as if to tease,
may have lasted a minute, or an hour one cant say,
this standstill of time in the nights embrace,
standing alone on the balcony of a high-rise,
a noise somewhere carries itself,
and breaks open this reverie,
the hollowness of it all seems to hit hard,
a shake of head says it all,
yet this routine sets off again interrupted,
by a night birds shriek, or a watchdogs fright,
and on and on, and on and on,
as if in compassion comes visiting the first light,
streaks across the comfort of the dark,
clarion call which but demands a response,
a tune, a strain, melody and then a full song,
the birds in chorus, the mantras to chant,
the morning sounds shatters the silences shroud,
turning back to it, within the room,
the last bastions of the night seems to surrender,
to the invading armies on the dawns wings,
the mirror that helps make disguise, seldom lies,
as it reflects the night that remains ensconced,
in that lonely mans bloodshot eyes.