In the Midnight of the Morning

In the midnight of the morning
as the sun peeks out of the broken sky,
examine the tendrils of time passing
through the microscope of your mind.

Wander down the pathways
leading backwards to the dawn.
As you listen to words of wisdom,
try to stifle each and every yawn.

For the professors and the intellects
growl angrily into moth eaten beards,
as they try to mend Excalibur
with incantations and sad words.

Even if it can be welded back to newness,
who will wield the wholesome blade?
Who has the fortitude to rescue
the sad, distressed young maid?

Will she be forever captive
to the madness of her dreams?
Will her heart be forever fastened
to her thread bare tortured schemes?

In the midnight of the morning
inside the madness of your mind,
count backwards from a hundred
until you come to the end of time.

In the midnight of the morning
as the sun peeks out of the broken sky,
examine the tendrils of time passing
through the microscope of your mind.

 

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Filed under Literary, Poetry For the People

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