The stillness of this night is double-faceted,
unmoved by the candle whose flickering flame is
burning inquisitive of my abundance, in a room
whose walls are dampened with uncertain forlornness

It pokes yet again, seeping through the netted window,
mumbling impossibilities of stories from other rooms
coiled up in unforeseen love; and to this, it finally
makes me preach why I subscribe to non-consequentialism,
how I have managed to preserve beauty embedded in different
points in time-living lifetimes in a few moments

The clouds have started to rise again,
the pre-rain breeze blows out the candle,
I am compelled to put my intoxication to sleep
and still, feel abundant


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