Silence seeps through this stilling night
In a sunken silent stupor, with a slow silent drift
In this heavy laden air, that refuses to lift
Silence thus settles, in the combs of a hive
Of time that trickles, and gathers slow to thrive
Silence seeps through this stilling night
On the cold curling gravel, where the trodden path rests
That soaks the stamps that were, of thousands of quests
And now exudes a content gleam from the dew wetted splatter
Under the ascetic lamppost that infuses the tranquil scatter
Silence seeps through this stilling night
In the veins of the leaves that murmur in the hush
Flirted by the chill that swishes by in a rush
Or in the wrinkles of the bark that try to hold the shadows
Of this lilting love of leaves and the lusty breeze of meadows
Silence seeps through this stilling night
In the rustic lunar sheen that pauses in its pace
And drips a sliver of silver on the onlooker's face
As well in the trail of vapour that wets the languid moon
Passing like a passing thought, so stark and yet so soon
Silence seeps through this stilling night
Filling those long drawn blanks, between the squeaks and hoots
Fading in the darkened foliage or burrowed beyond the roots
In the garb of the ghostly spirit that pervades the empty space
In the mind of the wary wanderer who watches the blurry face
Silence seeps through this stilling night
In the humming drone of the dumb who churn some silly code
Of some seeking steadfast minds, who dare the steady load
In my steady heave and fall, as I climb the dragging slope
Of a content silent slumber, as I garner my humble hope
Silence seeps through this stilling night
In a sunken silent stupor, with a slow silent drift
In this heavy laden air, that refuses to lift
Silence thus settles, in the combs of a hive
Of time that trickles, and gathers slow to thrive
Silence seeps through this stilling night
On the cold curling gravel, where the trodden path rests
That soaks the stamps that were, of thousands of quests
And now exudes a content gleam from the dew wetted splatter
Under the ascetic lamppost that infuses the tranquil scatter
Silence seeps through this stilling night
In the veins of the leaves that murmur in the hush
Flirted by the chill that swishes by in a rush
Or in the wrinkles of the bark that try to hold the shadows
Of this lilting love of leaves and the lusty breeze of meadows
Silence seeps through this stilling night
In the rustic lunar sheen that pauses in its pace
And drips a sliver of silver on the onlooker's face
As well in the trail of vapour that wets the languid moon
Passing like a passing thought, so stark and yet so soon
Silence seeps through this stilling night
Filling those long drawn blanks, between the squeaks and hoots
Fading in the darkened foliage or burrowed beyond the roots
In the garb of the ghostly spirit that pervades the empty space
In the mind of the wary wanderer who watches the blurry face
Silence seeps through this stilling night
In the humming drone of the dumb who churn some silly code
Of some seeking steadfast minds, who dare the steady load
In my steady heave and fall, as I climb the dragging slope
Of a content silent slumber, as I garner my humble hope
Silence seeps through this stilling night
Vindy
(This poetry describes the surroundings on campus when I was returning back from my lab vary late into the night and how I felt while slowly walking back with my cycle. It can be, however, generalized to any silent night, if you will)
(This poetry describes the surroundings on campus when I was returning back from my lab vary late into the night and how I felt while slowly walking back with my cycle. It can be, however, generalized to any silent night, if you will)
