This is the third installment of a ten part poetry/prose series I wrote a few months ago titled Hours. I wrote the series over the course of one night into the next morning as a project. Each individual part is titled according to the time at which I began writing the piece and makes for a kind of documentation of my thought process throughout the night. And after much editing, here it is.
I remember reading a meme somewhere that poignantly illustrates the space a conversation enters after midnight. How the discussion seems to melt into another plane, drifting from nonsensical chit-chat and boisterous story-telling to pondering pontifications and long silences laden with meditation.
Midnight is every hour on my clock, a ring of a dozen 12s.
I live in-between the planes of cacophonous banality and loquacious silence. I need only close my eyes and float away, or fly into the cloudy cathedrals of a sunset.
It’s why I remain awake an hour, two hours, even more beyond the midnight plane.
Have you ever been so quiet you can hear yourself think? The crisp wisp of a newborn thought shooting into your mind.
The midnight plane is not heavy or deep – it’s vast, inexhaustible, ethereal…naked.
Yeah…”naked” sounds right.