Upon Darkness

When the wind blows Trees, they whistle Shadows, mysteriously flow Fallen leaves bristle Upon the darkness As ghost we tiptoe Upon these enchanted nights I dream upon disasters As beautiful as Titanic in the Atlantic lights As common individuals I am summoned to be what you refer to as secular Still I find myself doing good deeds Trying to unburden my karma Remains of a poverty pushing father Flirting with whomever’s open arms I may bother Telling me I no longer have the spark I’m confused, I’m puzzled I consider myself the heart of the ark