My fancies are bitter flies,
Sparks of looming light,
Twinkling in the dark.

My fancies are Drowsy evenings,
Which echoes the silence of a careless glance,
To soak up the pleasures,
Of disobedient thoughts.

The bindings of love has grown such filmy wings,
And took a farewell flight,
Into the sunset sky.

Now I thus leap,
into the darker caves of the mind.

These scatterings of memories, Flower,
But, for the moment's whim.

And the fallen leaves of confusion,
swollen with hope, rides on the canvas of winged surprises!

To dance alone, all but alone,
With the illuminations of catatonic bubbles,
and with illusions,
Of Beautiful Shadows.

And, I float on the surface of colorless nights,
With all allusions to the shrine of the dead past.

From the solemn gloom of numberless days,
The staccato of memories fritters like secret stars,
Wishing to hearten a timid lamp.

But the sky seeks slaves and claims obedience,
From the mysteries of ageless time.

But, as you see,
My fancies have always been Fireflies,
And, Scripts of screaming tales,
Which would be Written on dust with flowers and scars.

My fancies 'are' fire flies,
Specks of Troubled light,
Twinkling in the dark.