The Reality
Why are we shocked with the space we owe
Convey with it a specific frustration,
With not a single companion to have
But how little we need to bring,
The main exhilaration that exists
Is the exhilaration we’ve carried with us,
Frangipanis outside needs thy steady acclaim,
The inflated shafts, once a primary fascination,
Looks fit for somebody other than me
Still it’s mine now and I think,
Will be known by the art we hang,
Maybe that is the reason
Wherever we go nowadays
Vanity has tailed us like a pet,
When we believe in anecdotes
Than worldly companions can never be ours,
I feel that with a house this way,
I should set up a major gathering
That would please with vulnerabilities of night,
And simply attempt to settle in
As everybody, even in his own space, is a vexed visitor
