On the other side of midnight streets are dead,
And relentless is the second hand,
Never ceasing its mundane task,
Oblivious to transformation, to all.
The external world has been engulfed,
Pin pricks of light struggle in isolation,
Desperate to penetrate blanketed darkness,
And the hand of time continues its mindless motion.
A single sign of life is left dissatisfied
In helpless search for fellow existence,
And the hand ticks on,
Giving the outcast of this world a false friend.
Silence lies heavily on the sheet of darkness,
And the river of dreams bathes the minds
Of those disconnected with the reminder of eternity,
The other side of midnight.
- 3rd prize winner of RG'S Newbie Contest and Mayo's Poetry Contest
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