The Lost Night

Nights are a very mystical time...Everything seems to be so serene. All the world's ugliness dissolves into its all-encompassing darkness. I've repeatedly fallen in love with the magical beauty of the stars that shine ever so innocently in the night sky, the jet black of it interspersed with spots of violet and dark blue....And the moon with the aura around it....It is all so reassuring that even in the toughest of hours I have found peace and comfort in it... This poem about the beauty of a moonlit night was one of the first I ever wrote....

The Lost Night

When the sun goes down on the darkened horizon

And the river looks like a fiery diamond

I stand and watch in silence

As twilight dissolves into darkness

The wise owl perches on a high branch

Looking for unsuspecting prey.

The cold air rustles through the leaves

As shriveled hands shiver before the struggling fire.

The nocturnal emerge from their secret nests

For their nightly prowl.

When the last candle blows

Before the torrent of the blowing wind

The poet finds his penchant

And pens his new lines

All the mundane is tucked into cupboards

And children into their beds.

Oh! Its a magical night

When the moon dances in its silvery shoes

And beckons to the shadows...

There do I stand

To revel in the vista of the mystical night....