The Closet Despot

It is in the all surveying gaze of the sun that I concede to the veil of sanctity harbouring a humane presence in me. It is in the light of day that a lurking sinister figure hides and takes refuge in the guise of my shadow. It is during the eve that a poet knocks on my being and exhales the vital essence of his expression into these empty words, bringing them to life. But it is in the lonely night's chill that I am engulfed by the vast expanse of this shadow. And as an ominous breeze sways my curtain gently aside , the faint incandesent glow from the outside breathes life into an obscure picture now in full fledged motion. A trip into the heart of the soviet land, A remorseless Stalin gleaming at an imaginary crowd atop the podium at Red Square . A despot is born in a world plunged in darkness. The shadow awaits the day the sun will never rise again.