The window sill creaks
I pretend not to notice its cries
While I work at my desk in the night
For the morning comes,
In my own bleak mind
Too quickly for comfort.
There is much more to be,
Things caught in the dark
We have but yet to see
And I’ll sit here til the break,
Dawn’s early luminescent rays;
Let them change me now
Give me what I seek

light shines into the dark window
i think i finally see the purpose
hands that were meant to glorify
turned into hands that instead sinned

contemplativeness i am becoming
just a cycle of useless thought
could i ever break free i wonder
maybe one day i’ll see that light again

I checked my time
It was around nine in the night
I looked up at the sky
You should ask me why
Something seems strange
It is not a mirage
The Stars are shining full
The Moon is quarter full
The Sky looks beautiful
This does not happen everyday
It is on the eighth of May
Around nine in the night
And things are looking moderately bright


I stood up from my seat
Just to wonder around
Green grass beneath my feet
This shows good soil abound
I sighted the fireflies flaunting their light
I heard the toads croaking with their might
I saw some flies flying away with fright
I noticed the gentle breeze of the night
I felt alive
This sensation does not happen everyday
It was on the eighth of May
Around nine in the night
And things were looking moderately bright


Something again occur
Nature was showing her Jamboree
When I saw it I concur
I could't help but to agree
A meteorite stylishly slowly decidedly descend
Contemporaneously with an aeroplane cruising westward
Its sound as if it's a firework
Its flashlight merging with the satellites and the starlight
Sizzling the sky with spree of synchronized light
This illumination does not happen everyday
It is on the eighth of May
Around nine in the night
And things are looking moderately bright


Here I am still wondering about
Free I am real round about
This World is not always a beautiful place
Round the years? Round the months? Round the days?
Across all the continents through the Asia
What makes today so special?
I believe the Heavens are smiling on me
Even the Earth agrees to it
Cruel creatures couldn't conflict
Nurtured Nature nicely nods to it
All these are on the eighth of May
Around nine in the night
And my star is realistically ready to shine its light

As the transient day slips by,
We work for our food and shelter.
We busy ourselves with toil
In a sultry, oppresive swelter.
This is the way of things, of course,
As we seek to survive the world’s hardships.
But we must not lose hope, so we keep words
Of encouragement on our lips.

But the day wanders late,
And we must prepare for
The perilous darkness…

Looking up, we saw the day’s diadem
Dropping and dwindling
Into an expanding distance.
A widening waste spreads,
Swallowing our hope and
Threatening our existence.
We kneeled to pray for protection
During this cold gloom of catharsis.
It seemed a ghostly mist approached,
As if from ancient Tarsus.

Suddenly, the warming orb shatters
Against the horizon,
Exploding with resplendent rubies,
Flying out from the surface!
Before this crystalline spectacle we are transfixed,
As our hearts discover a renewed purpose.

This shimmering treasure
Was then drawn up,
As the night’s shade descended,
To stand as a symbol
Of an eternal hope,
Just as God Intended.
To fill the sky with wonderful lights,
Creating a crown Of destiny.
We beheld its glory,
Within and without,
As our fears were transformed
Into ecstasy!

In that moment, we cried out,
“Come, O' Night! We reflect your beauty!
In this darkened aura,
We feel the embrace of an Arcadian love!
Night! Portent of our death and
Harbinger of our illumination,
We are kin with the stars!
We are citizens of the heavens above!”

I feel as light as light itself.
Not as fast, not as constant-
but weightless
as if the only way to feel
like I'm anything at all
is to illuminate
everything in my range

Before the death has gripped me
I have not know what is - free
Gleefuly sprawled in the darkness to be
Seen, eating spleens of the fiends.

I leaned towards overthinking
With no real thinking to be done
all games and fun, untill I've pointed the gun
Shunned by society, I've been shunning myself
Thinking, success will lift off my stress
Regardles, I've failed to impress the press

This is the moment, Death has Gripped me
Cut me, ****** me and it struck me
I've been lucky, but a bit too cocky

I see no love in the deep web
Of useless cred, I've shed in the net.

Lying in the basement, poorly lit
Seeing the truth, Death Gripped.