A midnight shriek or sudden bang
Disrupts the thread of tales,
Entangled in unconscious mind
With sounds of lashing flails.
Wherefrom it comes, whither it goes?
I threw my eyes up there,
The eerie void soon called me up
To trudge down through the stair.
Where does it end? it takes me down
Where lamps of darkness blaze,
That shrouds my home with hazy mist,
As in cold wintry days.
Is this my home? where are the things
That held I dear one day?
The ringing bell has changed the course
And changed the earthly way.
A clanging plate, a metal bait,
It beckons torpid limbs,
It makes a sleep, unmakes it too,
And plays with wondrous whims.
Has she returned, are these her steps?
They tap and knock and go,
The shadows come and fly along,
But never wreak a row.
The shades arise, it oft defies
The law of natural science,
Until the leaves rub veins and ribs,
On frail decrepit lines.
The window rails feel slithering fume,
So do the stanchions all,
The lights do fade, the balustrade
Invites a downward fall.
A pale blue fire, seen yet unseen,
Here calls on everyday,
When grief or mirth gives serene birth
To purple streaks of ray.
Thus with the fume I once resume
Move up the stair again,
No shrill this time could sever off
That story-tangling chain.
Look out and see the gory cloud,
The sun has sneaked behind,
It peeps and pokes, with crafty strokes
Revives the cloud reclined.
The rain has ceased, but not deceased,
Returns it back again,
A thunder hoarse lashed down its force,
With horrid, horrid rain.
A blue yet crimson cover moves,
As skies release the face,
Of pale and fatigued twilight sun,
That lost a vital race.
It's not a sun that we may know,
For it abodes a harm,
An evil omen for certain,
That violates its term.
Within a day, on western bay,
It showed up twice today,
And once on eastern shores it went,
So thrice it made foray.
The dark grey wall of earth's surface,
That heavy gloomy bowl,
Transfers my eyes to a different place,
Therewith my hapless soul.
This place I have not ever seen,
Oh no, where have I gone?
Slide off the window glass and see,
It poured down on and on.
But lo behold, it's cold indeed,
The men are white and pale,
Is that a tree, dead yet it tries
To cling the fallow frail.
The same old floor I trod upon,
I think I have not moved,
Or is this true, all is in one,
And everywhere I'm grooved?
A light and windy humid air,
Has brought me up the door,
It's her, it's her, my visions blur,
With that I upward soar.
The tuneful music still is heard,
Someone has stole the chord,
I see nowhere that bluish flair,
I hated yet adored.
Has it converged with nightly sphere?
No long that warmth I feel,
Was it cold death that ravaged faith,
And butchers human will?
No more my limbs so light appears,
My knees are bent and stiff,
The soulful pleasant pain departs
With just a rapid whiff.
The love of fear, and fear of love,
Enrich a timid thought,
The injured mind oft wants respite,
From vapid light unsought.
An unseen shift, a playful rift,
Revamps my timeless tales,
Split in future, past and present
Lost in unconscious dales.
