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
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