Poem: Some Nights

Nights are strange - peaceful for some, traumatic for others. If you've been exposed to the dark side of nights (excuse the pun), you know what I'm talking about. You see the world lose itself in a trance of motionless peace, but you're busy fighting the thoughts running riots in your mind, trying to shoo them away like a swarm of flies.

But the thoughts are strange.

They are hopeful one moment, hopeless the next. They make you fear some nights, while they give you courage on others. They belong to the past - they are old, dead, and gone, but somehow, jump to the future, keeping you awake till the break of dawn. They make you happy, they make you sad - they keep making you think of the good and the bad.

This poem 'Some Nights' echoes the troubles of all the sleepless souls whose enemies torment them when the world takes a rest. 'Some Nights' actually become 'All Nights' and the enemies - although invisible to the eye - are powerful enough to make anyone cry.

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Some Nights

Some nights, I ponder like a deer lost in a maze

Some nights, I rub my eyes to do away with the haze

Some nights, I reminisce about the by-gone days

Some nights, I realize I’ve ample dreams to chase

Some nights, I brush it off as just an inevitable phase

Some nights, I excite myself about what I’m about to face

Some nights, I try to foresee what the future has in store

Some nights, my mind crashes like waves in a seashore

Some nights, I’m busy praying, always asking for more

Some nights, I spend weeping, feeling pained to the core

As the minutes tick on and the night grows older

My warm and cozy bed somehow feels colder

Serenity all around, as the world is asleep

Not a soul to watch me as I silently weep

The silence is blissful but I’m deafened by the noise

Keeping me awake as I have no choice

I wait for the days – they are dreamy and dull

But the dead of the night taught me

How to make memories, void and null

Some nights, I think how blessed are we?

Some nights, I doubt if it’s ever meant to be

Some nights, I question the power of the Almighty

Some nights, I admit I’m the one who’s guilty

Some nights, I long for the next day to come

Some nights, I hate to see the rise of the sun

Some nights, I smile, staring at the ceiling

Some nights, I hate that old empty feeling

Nothing changes, when you long for change

As every single night feels familiarly strange

I think of the deserts – they are hot as well as cold

Just like my thoughts, which are both fresh and old

The night makes me dream with wide open eyes

As I search for the truth in a barrage of lies

And when my alarm rings, welcoming the dawn

I hear the birds chirping merrily in my lawn

I get off my bed with an energetic leap

But the little boy inside me longs for a sleep