The Prolonged Noons of Loneliness
Some in the game of Your consent,
Have woven the mesh,
For the stunned scared characters,
In the arranged spectrum of horror,
The so-called lofty lords,
Award time to time the undemanded pause,
Unbidden breaths, and paralysed day and nights,
The entire scheme is merged,
In the deep remembrance of death:
Ceaseless death,
Awake! And you too think in the spectrum,
Of your ancient thoughts,
In the prolonged noons of loneliness.
For they may shake the veins of life.