Nightsounds - An attempt at a sonnet

Past midnight hour, when most distractions die,
  A brave new phonic world, unheard of, blooms
  As if it were but delicate remnant fumes
From a blaze that charred the noise of the day gone by.
A brave new world of subtle sounds that try
  To grow from one of night-time's many wombs;
  And ere the morrow sends them to their tombs,
To steadily claim their share of our sky.
Obscurity! Relentless sonic haze!
  Distant dissonance! Stubborn nightsounds!
   Desist! I am a creature of day's light;
They rob me of my rest, your evil ways!
  For your very existence confounds
   The hoax that is the silence of the night.

-Srijan