No idea of the hour As time begins meaning nothing And everything all at one.
The notes and beats of the music Pounding around my room Are the only sign of moments passing.
Everything else sitting still and silent Nothing moves in the slightest Appearing as hard as stone As if under some spell.
The eerie stillness pulling me in and pushing me away Making me leery to touch anything For it may break the spell, Or prove it true.

Each pulse of the music Rushes through me, shaking me to the core Causing the stillness to be more emphasized by each pounding beat.