3AM
3AM comes like a quiet thief,
slipping between my dreams,
stealing my sleep.
I wake, again,
pulled from the illusion of rest.
It is not a time,
but a reckoning.
…
What calls me?
Maybe, I am meant
to witness the world in its rarest stillness,
to listen to the moon cast her silver confessions,
and to watch the city lights flicker
like midnight flames.
…
The night, a moonlit preacher,
whispers sermons of my unfinished thoughts.
While the world kneels in a cathedral of silence,
I remain exiled from sleep.
…
At 3 AM, I sit with all the versions of myself.
They keep me company at this hour,
with no questions asked.
For each one knows,
I am too tired to answer.
Moonlight Metaphors is a reader-supported poetry collection. To receive new posts or support my work, please consider becoming a free subscriber.
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I’ve spent more than a day or so bumbling around Substack - and was about to add my next Post titled “3.00am”, only to have YOUR writing recommended via ceruleanhues.timjagodzinski.de
and see your recent post, also titled 3AM. I think this may be the Universe letting me that Substack should be ok…
(That was until I pressed one too many buttons, so could not subscribe, apologies. I’ll pop back later to correct my mistake!)
I like your final stanza alot. It captures the emotion very well