Da dum.

Have you ever strolled
through your city at 3 AM? No,
not a drunken stagger or an emergency charge.
Rather, a walk worthy of a wanderer,
carried out at the pace of a galloping
snail.

You should.

The streets are filled
with the soft glow of neatly hung street-lights,
and the air is packed with a quietude (broken
occasionally by the bark of car-horns).
I find that beneath the night's lulling hush,
and invisible even during the day, lies
an enormous beast that breathes many
breaths, and beats many beats. Out of sync,
but all together.

And once heard, its chords echo, in a never ending rhythm,
that is both haunting and calming. Like a ticking clock on
a sleepless night, the dripping of a tap, the rocking of a chair.
Da dum, it makes my heart thump; Da dum, my pulse
races; Da dum, I sweat a bead; Da dum, my ribs resonate.
And amidst the resulting din, if I hold on to my worries
too close to my chest, I fear my lungs may burst,
the song will be disturbed and the beast might eat me. Raw.
But, since I soak in the drones of the city; since I let
a thousand views from a thousand hearts flash
within my mind; and since I open my arms, to let go
of my worries and accept others' in embrace,
I find that the skies feel lighter, my path seems clearer,
and my heart sings a new song. Da dum no more.
Da dum no more. 

- Mihir, @MereWords