Like the day makes way for the night,
the way the seasons seamlessly transition into the next,
Like hate transforming into love,
midnight is among the best moments of life,
when most of the ideas flash into my mind.
Halfway between sleep and wakefulness,
the womb of thought at its fertile best.
Whilst I lie waiting for sleep to strike,
the mind comes up with its greatest creations.
Maybe this is my blessing,
To know how dreams are made up.
P.S. : This is probably my first poem. Suggestions and comments welcome.