I sit in my chair, as I often do,
staring through melted sand
into an ocean of darkness,
where illusory stars shimmer, never quite real.
Here, time almost stands still—almost.
The clock ticks, and 3:07 becomes 3:08.
For each minute passing by, more phantom stars ignite.
Until the true light finds its breath,
and shepherds us into yet another day.
And while the false stars continue to burn.
I shall continue to sit in my chair, as I often do.
Until the sky is ready to tell the truth
Until even lies fade away.
And then at last, the morning returns to keep the lies at bay.
This is my first poem, so I am not sure if the way I wrote it sounds weird or confusing. I got my inspiration for this poem when I was sitting on a chair in my kitchen, watching the sun rise and all of the city lights slowly being turned off.