The night was mild and beautiful,
and the air was crammed with love.
It was a scene of an idyllic beauty,
an ideal reminiscent of a Monet painting.
And overwhelmed by the aromas of
the silvery moon, as a candle beneath
the serene sky, so did I remain steady
in my deliberations on the transcendent mind.
Then suddenly blew the wind; pale, dark, lethal,
and blindfolded, in accord with its notion
of democracy – in the land of austere disparity
aloft the volcanoes of the conflicting ideologies.
Helpless was I, just as a grain of sand,
trampled by its own sweat on the desert of life.
As an apparition, I turned away from the world,
kissed those shriveled lips and drank myself to sleep.