The beast sleeps
The quiet solitude of the early
Hours of morning while Humanity
Is still asleep, soothes and heals my Psyche.
The hum of my computer while I type
Is the only bearable sound. I succumb
To this transcendental inner sanctum.
Away from those raucous sounds that are caused
By the beast’s awakening. Injuring
Noise that reverberates throughout my brain
Resulting in insensitivity.
Longing once again the tranquility
Only the early morning balm provides.
I’ll relish this comforting quietude
Until the beast once again rears it’s head.
poem by Albert Ahearn
Added by Poetry Lover
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