JOURNEY THROUGH IMAGINATIONS

Bleak and drearry amid the night,
In the woods where no moonlight,
Travels pure and travels white,
By the dark winds in great delight.
There's ravens squeaking wild and loud,
And clamorous till the yonder clouds,
And I walk lone o'er earthen mounds,
Thru' the town of howling hounds.
And beneath a tree lone I perch,
And fling my arms as a perfect arch,
And savour the zephyrs as they blow,
Little by me; sweet and slow.
There in slumber as I drown,
I behold in dreams; a dazzling crown,
Crown'd o'er my slothful head,
As a perfect fit as 'twas carved and made.
And sudden as I thence behold,
There's a chariot mould'd gold,
Slowly from the realm of skies,
It came too nigh and my eyes;
Were baffled and confused,
Who hath this great chariot used?
As doth Gods from heaven's garth,
'Tis here to me in my earth,
And in a while a voice I heard,
Wake up o dear finest bard,
Tis time and I must take off thee,
Into the world of unbounded glee,
Where no worldy thoughts and whims,
E'er bother thy delightful dreams,
And thru' orbs and nitid stars,
Thou shalt see their glorious scars,
And thence to the realm of Nyx,
I shall carry thee thru' the cosmic streaks.
Thence down swathes to this land of men,
Thou shalt findest true disdain,
Ireful souls and vengeful ones,
Prance in pride and seek good chance,
And covert daggers in e'ery hand,
Bruises deep this hapless land,
For humans; as thou fete being one,
The earth is mocked in the realm of sun,
E'ery orb with a jeering tone,
Lampoons thy poor earth alone.
And when thou travelest a grand return,
Let all negative emotions burn,
Preach good voices to each man,
And let 'em thrive as a noble clan.
A buzzing bee perhaps has come,
With a pair of wings playing the drum,
And I gazed perplexed far and wide,
'Tis dense and dark on e'ery side,
And I'm still nesting 'neath the trees,
Lost in the arms of the soothing breeze.
O tis late and home awaits,
And I must now rein the fates,
And preach the truth of life and death,
To whole mankind with distorted faith,
Life's a journey thru' bliss or pain,
Or thru' honours or bleak disdain.
'Tis choices as we grasp and play,
And celebrate each novice day.
The world is a battle of loss and gain,
As the cosmos bides in a piece of grain.
© Dipanjan