By Cynthia Yeh
underneath the starry sky of the forlorn night
a single lonesome wanderer journeys on
trekking, encompassed with a cloak of blue
in search for his true love
seeking to find this love hidden deep within
in good time
a deleterious and intricate thing it be, time
its occurrence shifting from day to night
acquainted with the clock ticking within
the wanderer journeys on
surviving solely on the thought of love
he meanders into the blue
once in a moon of blue
appearing as the interlude of time
the sky uncloaks herself – his one true love
a failure to recognize this union of the night
the wanderer continues to journey on
seeking to find this love hidden deep within
the outcry of his feelings within
are nothing but coloured blue
the gleam of the sun has gone on
a once upon a time
for journeying on, he will, through the night
until he finds that love
where the Northern Star points: love
telling him to evolve the language within
and speak to the night
ridding him of feelings of blue
stars fall, a race against time
the wanderer must cease to journey on
with such ignorance, sorrow will carry on
unless he locates that love
before the termination of time
obliged to search within
to extract the blue
born amidst the forlorn night
journeyed on; failed to search within
for love, his heart transmuted to a midnight blue
time stops; heart swallowed by the night