Sadness

At the margins of midnight clouds, the eye of the moon is winking at me while gracefully passing, and hiding— a ‘hide-and-seek' game! Behind these verses written on the page I hide, as well: —from whom? —from myself! At the crests of the clouds, I see the moon's cold light: I know she is there, as I know I am here, but I hide—I try to hide the terrible melancholy of my heart: too tired to bear its heaviness! Thus, I let it fall…and I assume a false exuberance, which is scratching my heart with the truth. Presented to the mind, the mind says, ‘Yes— I accept it, for I am too tired of obsession! ' So, I am cracking sadness to insert some induced joy; that it may grow roots, even if, there is no expectation of fruits…