There are vague paintings in the sky-canvas;
Rainbow specks and flecks are ruggedly mixed.
Chased by the moon, does the sun seem anxious?
Towards dubieties, are our minds fixed?
Ghosts of blossoms dance in tree silhouettes;
Lavas of gemstones flow with crystal streams.
Lakes cradle pale leaves within their wavelets;
Nocturnals move, as though for war, in teams.
The sky has put on celestial costumes;
Are Cherubim on an earthly venture?
Tombs resemble luxurious greenrooms;
Daughters of Dusk hover in dark grandeur.
Must gold and crimson fade to starlit gloom?
What velvet shade weaves nature's transient loom?
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