Dead of the Night

In the dead of the night,

Where do you go searching for answers?

When the shadows merge,
To form a beautiful yet unconventional picture,
Interpreted wrongly by the light,
Surrounded linearly by the dark,

When the silence of the night listens,
To the chirping of the stars,
When the dead trees shout,
At the stillness of the wind,

What do you do when the night gives up?
And yet your eyes look as far as the horizon for answers,

With no option in sight, you close your eyes,
The deafening silence hits you hard,
The picturesque shadows rush to whisper,
And the intruding light creates an uproar,

Then you interrogate the questions,
Aren’t they always supposed to linger?
Till the purpose finds another distraction,
Till the curious soul finds another body,

With this thought, you smile,
We, the mere mortals can only question,
Maybe searching is the only purpose
Maybe answers are never to be found,

And you shut your eyes,
To dream of another world,
Where the silence laughs and the light hustles,
Where the shadows play and the darkness suffers,

And in the dead of another night,
You go searching for unanswerable questions,
Only to explore the questionable answers.