Here comes the visitor
sent from men of upper chamber
To stage masque at the
corridor of our life
Pittance as its bard
To entertain us with
confetti of misery
Delouse the hope; guard
dime with termite, besides the lice
Oh! Windfall blew with
the flute of whirling wind
At corridor of dusk and
dawn, hope, glare face,
Traders on horse rode
with caravan at the heart of green-desert,
But with empty hands, home
they come
Pittance pinched the
day
Dearth petrified the
night
The moon yawned and
squatted its light
The dawn wrestled and hustled
Like a lush that lost
his way home
Father!
Who is there for our
day?
Who is there for our
night?
Where is the eye of the
sky?
To see the way to Heaven
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