Torch Tribulation
With quite some ups and downs, twists and turns,
so illusionarily the mundane affairs fare,
racking everything up so far into thin air.
Traceless the same is my beloved,
like a draught slipping through the door shoved,
only a wisp of fragrance, ethereally evocative, in dream of old lingering deep.
Meretriciousness submerges, merging my melancholiness into high wind,
without the slightest sightly serenity in retrospect seeming to seep.
So lonesome the small alcove, my innermost outpouring has only nihilism to find.
End of dream brings me no beginning of waking,
no fortuity for fancy fondness in the making.
Royal, royal roads of love far and near, just lurk out of my lap;
Neat, neat niches for couples a dime a dozen, just lack of mine.
Freezing up instantly both dismal floccules citywide flying
and full bosom of sentimentality seething out of my sap,
only wanders and wades constant contemplation in wooing want.
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