Zero o’clock

The ancient pendulum strikes zero o’clock,
A flurry of loud silences sound,
The air is filled with nil numbers of questions
And so many answers, maybe twice,
Thrice, but slightly less than nought times.
It’s the time of the old witching hour,
The original one, when the sun dipped shadow
Humans passed through ghosts, breathing fire
And gods hide in corners, afraid.
What are you doing between time and existence,
Speaking in sharp, difficult shades?
You look through your ears, so stumbled,
Like nobody taught you how rude is to breathe.
Close your skin when you talk to your youngers,
Don’t you know how your lungs should behave?
You should have learnt butter from your future,
Has nobody told you to die low and wait?
Oh, go now, you know nothing at all.
Souls shouldn’t be out past zero o’clock.

6 thoughts on “Zero o’clock

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