The Golden Crescent.

Hours after the sun – ever-lonely in his majesty – has bidden farewell
I slide open the worldly curtains off my puny eyes
Miles away from the stagnant city scrapers and too many brisk voices
On a lonely highway flanked with nothingness on both sides
This evening belongs to fellow travelers and our rendezvous with the silence of the night.

And Lo! We behold a gift from the sky
Like a graceful yet sombre jewel the crescent disc hangs lowly on the canvas of horizon
For a few orgasmic minutes, a humbling privilege in the hearts of men and women blossom
For it is only once in a while that one can witness the moon’s golden smile
And breathe in the most modest of its phases
For it hangs – so low and near in the wildly black heavens – as if by a silky strand of a cosmic pendulum
That in the vast enveloping nihility, I had just stretch out my arm and with a swift yank along the inky skyline
With a stamp of authoritative aloneness make it for the night mine
And on this sharply chiseled and gleaming with tangerine buddy of ours
I had a like gleeful child slide from one tip of lunar tranquility to the other a thousand and one times.

For such an evanescent celestial stint in caging Time
Lustrous golden is the color that exemplifies its kingly might
It commands supreme dominance with all its ingenuity in the spectator-less opera of the night
For stars are white and dusk is no longer in sight
Aaah! What stream of beatitude flows from the concave glacier towards the collapsing darkness of the cosmic ocean
Bathing in it are the eyes of the both worlds
The immensely infinite twinkling gazes from the firmament
And the riveted greedy visions that belong to me and friends alike
One can almost sense the envy tainting Jupiter’s pride
For its audience has been stolen by an ephemeral elysian sight
Like the most vulnerable of arts, you too exhibit extreme transitoriness
Coz disappeared you have already in the river of time
Yet like an apparition you still hang on the horizon of my mind.