Oft times I write with my own blood in pain,a quick release of freedom to express well,the woes of past and present by views train;while my fancies unbar from my soul’s hall.

O' melancholy,hectic chill for human soul,herewith dismal presence,any spirit does descent.

Night’s visions of tranquility slowly rolled above me by the groovy silken silence,that prevailed wisdom and by my casement,the starry beams rave,and thoughts start to sketch Nyx’s beauty, as I admired.

The puzzled life was on Earth, still—a burdened lizard!

Time advanced again—Time machine’s pace became unusually up normal,the reality of my life stood in front of me when the journey continued mountain over mountains.We passed over more than a million rivers and streams of good and bad water as my insight intertwined a society. In the narrow paths of my life I felled,I bled with my solitary heart, as I knew I became a burden for a wild society. The crime I did was I created Literature with my spiral imagination.

The day arrived,when myriad teary rivers flow and the muted wind faintly died in his tears—an altar for the beloved one's departure,for sister-hood is no more,for her to adore!while pangs the beating world in a lamenting voice;their remembering loss of the 'one' they embrace most and when the crepuscule came like a phantom,the mournful,gathered birds swiftly flew in gloom.

In me,poetry is music;which elevates high to the sweetest level of an ecstasy,as thus it has the trembling heart’s symphonic tunes,while a state, I forget self and melt in poesy.

A true poet must had to sink, to an ocean of secrets to reveal,and he must be Lovable:but what the World did was smashing his views in a pit of GOLD.

A drop of darkness above me hung,within me ruined Rome,within me demolished Rome, where those lands my dream would well travel,before that I want to die without blame,so let me see ten thousand moons to Dream.