Who am I?

I am all alone 

In this forlorn 

and infecund world

Who am I? 

I am merely a shadow of rotten bones 

but nothingness 

My entity is nothing 

Tussling and dying 

In every sickle of irredeemable time 

and adhered like the clogs in the sulphuric fire 

Searching a blue canopy 

but flagrant fire, deadly fire, 

My self is in deep bedlam 

crouching like the crimson leaves 

in the valley of dead bones 

Corporeal frame is smouldered 

light-flame is defiled 

bewailing and bemoaning in the baleful air 

Who is there? 

sauntering lonely in this sable and bleakly night 

while no cuckoo bird sings 

upon the boughs of shrunken trees 

Hark! 

someone is there...is anyone there? 

stay and reveal yourself 

and turn your queer and quirky face 

Why are you roving like an itinerant in this sinister and murky night? 

while no cricket shrieks in this gnawing time 

but you are all unaccompanied in this mystifying cloak 

but last winter I have seen you underneath the parched-up mountains and rocks 

no...no...no...you were there at Ivory Tower

with your shattered and magnifying glasses 

and bearing a tattered coat and battered cap 

going for a long peregrination in the dead sea

and sailing your barrage over the tossing-waves 

and there was no glee upon your purple and pallid face 

dismal night and ravenous sea 

torrential water, 

deluge of delusive sea

and clamor of trillion and trillion voices 

heard up the dreary sea 

tears, torrid tears, 

of woeful mankind