Ghostly ebony horses silently plodding in dust along the slumbering mountains, in dreams of my concealed thoughts, the horses' dead eyes haunt even the recesses, the yielding, the insane reaches of my mind, as descending melancholy imprisons me with its blackness, its poetic dirge, its deep knells. A phantom pall covered coffin pulled by these gaunt specter horses, this pier in shadows- who is bourne in it ? my mortal, it is fragments of my heart, which could no longer bear the loss of the lives from- world hunger and war.

Manna long ago floated down from His heavens, Today, the hunger. of others haunt the filled.