I let my self
glue to the scene
Through the window,
the cloudy moon,
calling me,
to drown inside
The dark ocean of the night.
and so I did.
Drowning is no tough job,
when there's no fear of dying,
but as I swam to the surface,
I wished more and more to live,
fascinated and held by the,
glorious moon,
swimming slowly,
further away,
amongst clouds'
hazy ambience.
And ask me for how the worldly pleasures lose their meaning,
cause floating on the top of the world,
this mystic witness,
had let once, the will to live, be alive,
and then the fear of death, sleep tight.
Hoards of clouds,
were lazily slipping on this
silvery lit dark surface of the night,
a star would every now and then,
beam at me and hide quickly,
like a play of hide and seek,
or writing a message in their,
Beaming characters,
to which I was least bothered.
I was already taken
by the figure that appeared
where moon was.
Myth has it,
the moon shows the most precious,
thing when it shines bright,
the borrowed exuberance of the sun,
is nothing, but the aura, the light,
of the person, that enlightens your mind, when it behomes the ever dark misery.
This voyage of clouds,
and the climb to the moon,
was however halted by time,
as the sun's yawn was ready to break dawn,
and I fell back to earth,
away from the inscription
of my dream girl,
that the moon bore with grace,
and with no shame,
It was taking away,
the dear girl, with it, to the other world.
And If I ever would have cared,
Of what stars were saying,
this dawning despondency,
had not crossed my way,
only If I had cared about,
what the message of the stars, had to say.
