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I stand on the steep precipice of The Unknown,
Clouds, yonder, like cotton blossoms, are sown and grown;
Hills, like gray ghosts of the dead, stand drab, dull and dim,
Where's heaven? Where's hell? Reply seems sublime grim-whim...!

Sky seems, somewhere white, somewhere blue, somewhere coal-black,
Bottomless cumulonimbus of clouds crack-pack;
Terrifying, horrifying, scenes bleak in peak,
Dream streams seem to flow like tears from eyes always leak...!

Some phantom seems crossing one steep from another,
Bridged with broken bamboo, surrounded by smother; 
Secret-filled valleys loudly laugh - none knows what's there,
Hallows of heaven and hell-fires, fill the air...!

Dusk falls; gloom encircles; will I fall from the cliff?
Will angels hold me? Or devils clasp tight and stiff?
Will peace-filled heaven-home be my portion and cup?
Or from horror-hovering hell, will I soups sup?

Some thin, lean rays from the east, yet, is slightly seen,
If widens, this would surely, the gloominess clean;
Whatever beyond the horizons, will light-up,
My soul will soar with all souls; glowingly gleam-up...!


27 January 2022

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