Falling night
                           behind a
                           vanishing door.
                           Four suffocating walls.
                           A misty smoke
                           traces torn images
                           of my scrawny
                           shadow on
                           the damp walls.
                           On the floor
                           of my mind,
                           dusky colours,
                           desire for
                           rebirth. On
                           the dry canvas
                           -- blank -- stars
                           shed no light.

                           In the port
                           of pale doubts
                           and insecurity,
                           along with
                           the serene
                           lucid moonglade,
                           the enchanting
                           feel of nature's
                           riddles wades in.
                           It, as I
                           walk through
                           the streets,
                           scatters on
                           the roofs and
                           vanishes into
                           the earth's deep
                           in search of truth.

                           Closed doors. The
                           lonely vedettes,
                           guarding peace
                           of night for humans,
                           it seems here too
                           are the walls.

                           Shadows of
                           the rain lie
                           so vast
                           like the sea,
                           and cast a
                           fading question
                           mark on the sky.

                           Wet sand.

                           The night, the
                           breeze swept over,
                           surges into me.

                           'Did not you
                           see ? I have
                           become a man'

                           She laughes. Her
                           laughter, like
                           sweet memory
                           of a sleazy
                           grey cloud,
                           pours down and
                           drips through me.
                           I cannot see;

                           The night...
                           The night had