When the animals are done

Scavenging, hunting, fighting and gathering,

The true colours begin to bleed

As it gets darker and darker.

When the man returns,

His wife blushes red,

In anticipation of what is

About to come,

When the food is served,

But the hunger demands something else,

The veils of hypocrisy give way,

Revealing the true skins,

When the two brewing souls

Embrace, Hold, Soothe and slumber,

Penetrate each other in melancholy,

Indifferences vanish.

When the city sleeps,

A poet awakes,

seduced by the bare innocence Of Nature,

A man finds his true self.

When the sun dies out,

The moon begins to fade,

Facades of righteousness begin to shatter

With the dark disdains all around.

I may be wrong.

I may be right.

Great many things happen every day

But better things happen only at night.