Genre: Nature, Beauty, Life, Uncertainties, Hope.
Full moon by Adams Duniya
This bald asterisk
Over cottoned sky-high:
Wide-height, with silver hue
Has thou cast. In slow-line crawl
By soft retractile attendance –
Resolute for celestial harmony,
Has heavens splendour, thou calmed.
Let thy pseudo feet –
Ever soiled in resoled purpose
All earthly heaving, suck;
And every sigh’s brim
With sensuality, smear.
O, attenuate my love
I behold Sky Boy! –
It’s baby-hour-out; but
To what do we owe this visiting?
Let those tales recycle
And us, wisdom re-hear!
Trace thy trails
To the firth thou please;
Thy silent symphony holds
Our hearts to solemn assembly.
Nature has moulded thee sybarite;
The heavens have crafted thee sylph.
To our vain pilgrimage here below
Render a surfeit of thy grace
And galvanize us against the scourging
Sun of life. But night: of evil souls,
Do not leave us to it –
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