Inner Realm
__ Song of Mind __
The crickets are making an orchestra,
With strength and stress to adjust the anguish,
Their jolly souls to imbibe the spirit,
Of the evening after a sunny summer.
The shore of summer is submerged in dark,
On the bosom of Imbecile evening,
The pain of silent song of early Autumn,
The shadow of death of sunny selvage.
The crickets are singing with full throated ease,
Pouring their hearts to express their sorrow,
The evening falls as an end of a day,
The death of a joyful being after glee.
The Moon above is Cloud- capped and gloomy,
Walking like a half-dead being and dropping,
A group of birds under the Moon is flying,
Flying without aim with no intention.
The idle hour of evening, an hour of death,
The earth is moving from light to darkness.
From Perennial joy to mystic misery,
From outer rapture to inner silence.
The spirit of day paves the way for night,
From hour of love to reflective quietness,
The Sun is down the line and Moon above,
The earth is dark with varied song of doldrums.
The air is heavy, drowsy with seasonal change,
From drowsiness to somnolence anddeath,
Life is a storm with a strong epicenter.
Darkness though painful is pioneer of peace.
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