Whispers in the Dead of Night

3 o’clock in the morning
When all is silent except for this thunder
Through this quiet house the lightning flashes
Devoid of rain
But the scent lingers in the air
Like a bitter memory
But sweet as honeycomb

Across my face this wind brushes past
It’s silken fingers grazing my neck
Enticing me to drift into sleep
Stirring my hair
Lifting my soul
As a mournful violin
My heart plays this sad song

Through the night
The light flashes
But in silence
I wait

This tune in my heart
Beating out through my chest
Am I a ghost
Wandering through this quiet night
Where nothing but silence touches me
When this brush of a kiss is so imperceptible
Where nothing illuminates my heart but the flashes in the dead of night

I’ve learned to live half alive
And when the thunder rolls
I stand here not knowing what to do
The rain pelts my face
And the wind knocks me down

I wanted to feel alive
How better than to fall down
And understand the pain
And understand the misery
To see the destruction done
How better than to stand in the midst of it

So here in the midst of this storm I’ll stand
I’m not a ghost,
It hurts too much.