Mountains of icebergs
Taller than the Everest;
Idyllically quelled in quietude,
Magnificent, cumulus density
Hanging above the horizon.
Looming over
is the milky orb.
Lacking lustre -
covered by the ignominious mask
of that passing sheet of sorrow,
an aftermath of oblique despondency.
A stranger feels at odd
of this panoramic contrasting mirage
going on over his head.
The former portrays breathless beauty
The latter portends lifeless glory.
Tho' young is the night
The enclave looks empty
There's no solace in sight
For a lone, lost stranger
who is predestined
to his own ambiguity.