In the quiet hours of night,
when stray thoughts loiter through the streets,
forgotten fantasies trapeze through the resting minds
of forgetful people, asleep,
content in the warmth of their mediocrity.
The oceans waves are calmed to a
Water lapping hungrily at the bedeviled beaches,
lost memories and shards of truth,
Cutting into innocent skin, making the water pool out instead of blood.
The wind clocks out,
it's office hours over.
Yet it's work just begun,
its duty to protect,
from the evil forces of silence.
ever present in that moment.
The wind steps back,
and takes a deep breath.
Let's out a sigh,
its work never ends.