on a lonely winter’s night ..

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Everything is so dark in front of me

in this lonely winter night,

and its utterly desserted in this darker side of wee hours

with none you could find amidst

this cold lonely winter night.

I am lying beneath these kissing waters,

musing in the midnight,

stoned and intoxicated feeling the gag inside,

the stolid me trying to embark

on a queer muse over the darkness

in front of me and the tiny scattered dots

of white sheen inside this vast spread

of dark on a lonely winter night.

 

Am i seeing a hunter, is it,

is that the hunter’s grouping,

as they call them in the mythology of greek.

He is holding his weapon raised right above his head,

and like a demon he stands,

so fierce and wild could you capture his eyes,

so obdurate and staunch could you perceive his stature,

the triplet in the middle of his body,

the three dots spaced between equal distance,

the sign should say of this enigmatic creature’s identity,

the hunter’s triplet as they call it

in the myth in this northern sky.

 

Lying in the gentle waves

I am musing in the midnight

upon this vast sea of darkness

holding its dots of white sheen so queer and so lull,

alongside this chill breeze of obscure urges

wherein you could nt figure the dark or its dots,

the way you would have wanted to,

could neither figure the enigma inside

nor its nonchalant random interpretations

or perhaps its illusory ideas behind,

in a inebriated mind’s swing by on a lonely winter’s night.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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