Three Hours After Midnight
I was lying awake trying to stop my mind from thought,
but I was losing the fight, my attention was caught.
Sleep was the last thing my mind had in store for me;
it intended to saturate my thoughts with creativity.
It mixed words and flowing colours in an extraordinary blend,
slowly, at speed, smooth, then textured, the mix had no end.
The flowing beauty made no sense; however, for a second it did,
but the speed of the images made everything appear short lived.
I couldn’t capture or freeze any image and retain it in my mind,
my memory couldn’t cope with the instantaneous designs.
The images became chaotic, as I tried to slow everything down.
I thought I’d succeeded, but it only slowed to turn things around.
I became hot and sweaty, and threw back the covers from my bed,
this mental turmoil was having an effect outside my head.
I had to get up to splash cold water over my eyes and face,
and then I just sat trying to stop my thoughts from taking place.
Eventually, feeling more relaxed I lay down and closed my eyes.
I was in a light blue sky, with soft white clouds passing slowly by.
Peace and calm had come to a turbulent and unpredictable mind,
my thoughts were pleasant and slower, at last, I’d found dream time.
poem by Orlando Belo
Added by Poetry Lover
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