Sleepless

Sleepless

It’s only late at night,

When the minutes are protracted

That the fears hidden by daylight

- The fear of dilapidation, of irreducible pain,

Of loneliness and all things terminal –

Drop their masks and reveal the ugliness

Of Truth; that for the single man

There is no truth other than

That all paths lead to the eternal forest

- So achingly green and familiarly dark –

Where all living things retreat and wait

For the certain final hour.

It’s only late at night,

When Silence has reclaimed its purity,

That the echoes of bygone eras return,

Droning regrets and protestations never-ending,

Cyclical disappointments, looping heartbreaks,

Rhythmic reiterations of ‘Never again!’,

‘Today is the first day…,’ and ‘Worthy I am.’

All conviction since lost, drowned in

The underworld stream of mass indifference,

The hungry maelstrom devouring dreams

Of every manchild ever dared to

Outwear the insignia of innocence.

But when daylight comes,

Masculine and confident,

The fears and the echoes wind back

To the shadow-world of unrealities.

In the glare of the morning sun,

The heart beats militant to the staccato sound

Of daily sameness, of predictable

Capitalised headlines and beehive activities

Designed to keep up the illusion of

Security everlasting.

2015

E.C.W. Ong. All rights reserved.