I don't know what this is

In missing calm of night and creepy shades of light

a warrior* strides across the fields in search of ventures capable of arresting his attention

 

My faulty computer clock says it's almost midnight

I have previously sought help right from Google to Microsoft

but the problem persists no matter how much i insist

 

I turn off the light and hit the sack

but sleep is something which I immediately don't lack

so I continue to longingly gaze at the download manager

with the hope of watching the MOTD before calling it a day

 

I have no clue as to when that might be

as the speed keeps fluctuating

and my mood swinging

 

So with time to kill, i switch on the night bulb

left behind generously by the previous occupant

and start scribbling this piece

in light which frankly isn't enough to make out chalk from cheese

but oddly, (is) bright enough to uncover the reason behind the generousity 

 

My eyes can barely see these letters and are under tremendous strain

but i continue in this vein 

for the night's now a tad too old to be working in light as bright as the incandescent luminence

 

All this while, the "time remaining" continues to appreciate and depreciate

taunting teasing and coercing me to stay awake 

and so helpless, i continue to write

 

Notwithstanding the late hour, a dude's blaring Beyonce's "If I Were A Boy"

certainly not thinking on the lines of

"If there was a lark

living right next door

with hopes of waking

up at the break of dawn........."**

 

A quick glance at the screen

which at its dimmest is still the source the brightest

I see there are just a few mega bytes to go before i stop this

 

RSA will re-embark on their pursuit of history in a few hours

needing just a century and a half with all wickets in hand

but i wait with breath sparse

coz when it comes to the proteas

I'm a pessimist with reasons aplenty

 

Oh, download's done and so is my turn for i've got to run

[Don't know whether it's the chilly night or the scrutiny fright

I just can't help but feel that this piece will do better

if taken after a few cans of budweiser]

 

p.s:- None of this would have happened if i hadn't felt a bit ashamed to go back home in the afternoon, after having returned only in the morning.

My efforts at coming up with something other than prose continue to go astray :( Prudence tells me to not publish this, but alas, i keep no drafts and the backspace key's no longer a part of my keyboard setup. The darn thing's gone the way the ctrl button did earlier. 

**->believed to be written in tune with Beyonce's song