Death Is An Illusion

When a day closes its door for me, with smiles of aurora, she comes in a windows, with a comb in her right hand, dressing her long silky hairs. The vagabond poet starts his roaming. He was a Romeo, He is a Romeo, He will remain a Romeo! He is in search of the Milky Ways. Where are the ways of love? The sun has melted and dissolved in the sea. Moon is peeping out from veils of clouds, Venus bravely challenging the gorgeous moon. The sun is no more. But I am not mourning his death. I know the sun, too, is a vagabond. Being tired of a shy Asian Beauty, he is looking for a beloved somewhere in Canada and the States. God bless the sun with American Beauty! And lo, she got many on a beach, Sexy, appealing, exciting, appetizing, Being kissed by the naughty sun! And the poet’s Milky Ways, In Australia in New Zealand or in Japan, vagabonds are everywhere. Love is the only religion, followed all over the world, and one who is in love, never, never, never dies. Days and nights come and go One who is dead for you is alive for someone else. The girl with a comb has now dressed her hairs but where is she? She is dead on windows and alive at the doors. Milky Ways are busy with my friends somewhere else, The youth is dormant not yet dead, I am coming sweetheart, with charms of your shyness, Oh You! The Asian Beauty, Remain on the doors.