Yet again My nib dances with tears The Grim's blade smiled yesterday Duty beckoned - that sweet lure, spelling a sour aftermath A beautiful bitter happenstance. A clay colossus of bare emergence from the potter's wheel whose firmness owed the sun a little more attention hugged mother earth with a thud, Indeed the Sun wept The moon wore a nostalgic robe. Tonight is dry, so dry It could kiss the walls with cracks The flowing tributaries of cricket melodies have dried up Perhaps they too know that Johnson danced too soon just before the drums wore their talkative masks Perhaps he might hear the silent waterfalls from ember red eyes of eager scholars Or their palpitating hearts reeking with dashed hopes Maybe he might remember Amarachi's Stories and open those chambers of sight And say "Its all a joke" Even I myself bears so much of earthly burden to reconcile your impromptu journey with reality's deep blue personality.