Before, The Morning(Poem)

At 3 A.M.
a quiet pissy feeling
woke me up or
a thirsty throat.

the wormholes of the universe
were wide open
no one was there to melt into it
no, not even the gods
for they were too busy
in auditing the spreadsheet of
vices and virtues.

productivity games of man
did not start
air was not yet wet
with the sweat of joggers.
the birds, the dogs, the cats
the coffee cups, the babies
and the karma has not woken up

and
were still in their erstwhile positions
like a Spartan army, disciplined and tamed.
but the cockroaches were moving.

The nothingness of 3 A.M.
was blissful not yet intruded
by mechanical and robotic 5 A.M.’s of the man.

3 A.M.
it’s the time
you are utterly alone with the stars
and the darkness
in a state of true living.

the only moment
I hear the time
slipping by.

only the watcher remains
with no mind
to explore the geometries.

—Drunken Monk.

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