Eleven - Unominous?

I procrastinated until this hour.
I waited for inspiration, but it came out sour.
Here I wait - the eve of the eleventh hour.

One minute more, until the strike
Of the bell "Recalled to life!"
Will it sound less odd tonight?
Its connotation is wrought in fright.
Can I redeem a concept, do I have the right?

By the glow of a lit keyboard,
My words dash across a screen to solidify a core.
Will my thoughts find a thread,
Are my audiences' hearts dead?
For I listen to the silence and it whispers volumes.
Yet I continue in the hope, that a fellow soul will read and cope -
That I am not alone in my worries and fear.
How will I view this piece in one year?
I have not clairvoyance, have not a prescient career.

I cling to the Lord in this storm
Of words and philosophies that scorn.
They mock life, meaning, and warmth.
The eleventh hour stands alone.
My mind is slipping like a lodestone...

Twenty-four hours in a day.
Who decided to measure that way?
There should be a metric measurement of time!
With ones and tens, milli and kilo.
Time is a human problem, not to neutrinos.
Why do we abide by the rules of the past?
I know... without stable concepts, chaos would outlast.
Yet I lay prostrate before the eleventh hour.

I made decisions that shaped today,
And still, tomorrow will fall the same way.
Chasing ever after the life I wish I knew -
The years weather me, that is how I grew.
Here I am, contemplating my next move.
I will not fall into a groove, I refuse!
No rut for me, no doomed clouds of grey.
The eleventh hour is quietly passing its stay.

"His madness keeps him sane."
Called Delirium to Dream one day.
Neil Gaiman's Sandman is credited for this thought.
Humanity were the players in this battle fought.
For twas a bet 'tween Morpheus and Desire,
The Sleeper's hope, the Lover's fire.
This quote comforts me when peering into vain reason.
'Tis half past the eleventh hour's season...

One more verse 'fore rest I take,
In the morning, I shall wake.
My vigor restored for the life I am living -
I have no promise that more time will be given.
I cherish each moment, knowing it is faint,
I shall never meet that moment again, but harbor no complaint.
For if I dwell upon the past, the next moment might find me passed.
Innovation waits on no man's watch,
The leaders feel its clicking notch -
They are straining for the next report,
Knowing their current tech could be made inert.
Leaving them stranded in their twilight -
Eleventh hour desperation in the dead of the night.