The same sunlight,

My joy knows no boundsAnd leaps with joyIn seeing,Viewing the waterhen,The white-breasted waterhenCalling at dusk.

Resonably dead, logically dry,But call they themselves holy and piousBut are not virtuous and chasteThe so-called faithfulsAnd the blasphemy-doers and skeptics too godlyAs they question the things beyondFor an understanding.The conservative and Orthodox people,When will you reform yourselves?

To determine who a racist,Who not,First say you,Are you right,You yourself, gentleman,First judge you yourselfBefore judging others?I understand your liasionWith leftists, anarchists,Fanatics and Bohemian artists,You too not goo,Black lives Matter,The same rotten egg.

That, that had beenOur last,Last meeting?Who,Who couldThat,That was ourLast,Last meeting?And,And met weFor,For the last time?

Recording the the impressions and sensationsFelt in lovePhysical and bodily,A lover of the bodyNot the soulWith strange meetings describedIn the magical of loveWith lucid wordsNever so expressed, said soAnnihilating the moraleThat boosts up,Decaying the load and monotonyOf rampant intellectualization,Industrialization.A lover of womenHe is after love, sex and dreams,Glued to,An admirer ofAppleyish cheeks and luscious lipsAnd…

And had they,They would have been great writersOf the world,Be sure of it.Mark it,Even a wild bloom has beautyWhich but we know it not,Do the fireflies have not,Are the clusters of wild palash blooms not so?