Poem no. 2
(pronounced: moon-ga-ta)

Under the moonlight, we tranquilly bask
And stars the bellwethers of the umbra
Now beckoned are zephyrs of our mask
And revealing, of a perturbed utopia

Shilly-shallied, fiddled with uncertainty
And 1 would be the time of the night
For axioms we follow as for veracity
And still we lie erroneous of our...