A view from the window

Daylight moon,
just above the horizon,
white and round,
and very heavily scarred;

Stars of twilight,
creeping out of night,
far in an abyss,
in the safety of their emptiness;

Clouds of winter,
meaninglessly high,
rainless and grey,
fading out just as they faded in;

Birds of the black,
flying over yonder,
cawing at the world,
in search of the dead and discarded;

Men of youth,
walking aimlessly,
in search of themselves,
pale and vacant.

By: Viraj Belgaonkar

Pen it... or aaa type it. u know what i mean.

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