it's midnight

it's midnight and
my eyes just staring at the wall opposite
no sleep, no dreams,
i sit and watch the drama
unfolding before me;
like an empty canvas
waiting for an artist
i wait in anticipation
wondering when and wondering why;
i did all i could,
so i believe so,
what is happening is beyond my grasp
and i can only watch as a mere spectator;
a mere spectator in my own life
one moment its all the way up,
the next its hanging in balance,
the tension is nerve wracking;
patience is all i have
and patience is all that i need
as i watch the things unfold
and let things take shape at its own pace;
i waited a long time for this,
so what difference it is going to make
to wait a little bit more
but for how long should i be the villian in my own life;
i wish i could answer all the questions running in my mind,
i wish i could end all the battles being fought inside,
i wish i do not have to wait for long
i wish, i hope and i believe
(maybe) tomorrow will be better than today..............

I found this poem in the internet........................

O Captain! My Captain!

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:

But O heart! heart! heart!

O the bleeding drops of red,

Where on the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;

Here Captain! dear father!

This arm beneath your head;

It is some dream that on the deck,

You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;

Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!

But I, with mournful tread,

Walk the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.