Songs of an Insomniac

Inky nights
of insomniac stain,
clashing thunder,
dark dripping rain,
virtual escapes
to oceans wide,
infinite scapes
in indigo light.
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The fragrance
of a rose,
is not captured
in prose,
to experience
the sublime,
one needs
a rhyme.
Passions sultry,
taste of wine,
expresses in poetry
and keeps
fine
time!
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Nations weep-
wounded by
shards of hatred
deep,
fractured by chisms
of religion,
communalisms,
malicious intent
infestations foment,
gangrenous
their poisons
spread,
striking humanity
dead!
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