3 O’clock, by Jerry Veit

3:00 in the morning, I don’t know what I’m doing; I don’t know where I’m going.

3:00 in the morning.


On this bumpy road with lots of ups and many more downs.

I saw the light, but was too slow to catch the falling star.

Little white lies wearing little black ties. I wish I knew the truth.

I wish I could see farther than the mind can believe. I had a speech, but forgot my lines.


I fell in love with the lady of the lake, some image in the fog I misinterpreted as someone real.

Heat rises to fog my mirrors, and through my rose-colored glasses, I watch white dresses dance, around the burning fire in my eyes.

Throwing flower petals and herbs into the blaze while wishing for love, prosperity, and futility.

Generations seeped in mythology. Lore and legends into celebrations.

Freedom from facts and science may end these bothersome worries and fears. Take the mind and separate it from the body.

The night air and incense smoke.

All is quiet at this witching hour, but the floorboards still creak when all is supposedly asleep.


Heavy now is the world, yet it floats effortlessly in space.

Tired now are the weavers of this quilt. Pictured are all who have walked the many paths of this labyrinth through time. I am here, but my side is not yet finished.


Shall I steal a kiss from the lady of the night, then retreat to the safety of my sheets?

I am a stranger to these lands and merely a traveler that hasn’t begun his journey yet.

To the east, to the west, if I stopped thinking about it could I feel the slight tug towards the direction I am bound for.

One wrong turn into a forgotten world could prove to be fate, but I’m still fishing in a puddle frustrated I do not yet have a catch.


I’m lost among the rich, watching them drink their wine and talk about things that have no interest to me.

I’m lost among the brave, who have daring stories to entertain their guests.

I’m lost among the beautiful, who never had to worry about rejection.

I’m lost among thieves, and this is where I’m noticed.


I tripped and fell into the sky.

I saw a light, but lost my fight.

I can’t believe they rejected me. Falling now I hit the ground at 80 miles and several years too soon.

Running from shadows and hiding from the reach of time. The fickle finger of fate was more of a punch to the face.


When I awake from my unconsciousness I notice something I have never seen before. A large gate closing off a road I have not yet traveled. In time if I wait it will someday open.

This is my passage, through the woods and through greener pastures. Over Caribbean blue seas with a mild breeze.

Smell of food and baked goods along with laughter fills the air, and new age sounds are playing in the wind.

A smiling beauty with my name upon her chest and arms wide open. Children running from play to take notice of my approach.


This is home.

I am home.

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