2 in the morning.

The indistinct hour.
It’s the hour when the moon,
And stars shine at their brightest.
Yet, are so easily neglected,
While the lamps of cities seize their fame.

2 in the morning.
The unconscious hour.
As the trees, the sun, and all life sleeps,
The varying shades of grey and black
Come to dance in the sky, they mingle
And intertwine with one another.

2 in the morning.
The pondering hour.
The hour when we either dream delightful dreams,
Or attempt to solve all of life’s mysteries.
We turn back and forth in our bed while everything else
Meditates to the sound of the earth holding her breath.

2 in the morning.
The muted hour.
The earth lowers her voice allowing all to rest.
The commotion dulls and falls to a trance,
The silence is sedative,
And more welcoming than any embrace.