Winter mocks as spring tries to press through in vain.
Dusk unfolds; grey clouds murmur dissent as they rush away,
Uncovering the insidiously pale, dimming blue.
The pink of the horizon provides a receding glimmer of hope.
Darkness has now clambered across the sky,
Uranus and Neptune are whispering unheard wisdom.
The Bringer of War drums out rhythms of mankind’s destruction,
While the mind flickers like a star between order and pandemonium.
Anarchistic evil is portrayed by the shooting stars:
A gunman’s outward apparel soon smothered by blackness.
Across the sky flows the band of the Milky Way,
But its richness is destroyed by ravenous dictators.
This bleak picture, painted on a palette blue and grey,
Covers all goodness and love, hiding the Creator in pretension.
Man deceives himself into cruelty and violence,
A deceptive praying mantis uttering zealous words.
The tired, contorted soul languishes into sleep,
Dreams come with the dew, and dread dies with soft echoes.
Later, the Morning Star rises, restoring peace and harmony,
And melancholy vanishes in the first rays of a vernal sun.