Left?

I started gazing.

Saffron they were,

A shining silver outline giving them the

Shape of a cloud,

Half the sky had a golden rush,

Floating;

And the half, the clouds filled with dirt,

Black, dark;

Charisma and a beautiful contrast of

The gold and the black,

The divine and the humane,

The holy and the filthy,

The pure and the polluted;

It’s half past seven now,

And,

Golden ‘seems’ to leave,

Leave, or stay there forever?

While gray is to take over,

And once again, the human eyes stumble

Over some ‘developed theories’.

Dusty clouds seem embedded with some sparkle;

Stardust it is,

Maybe.

Though,

Soon the beauty of the night will conceal the

Dust somewhere in its vicinity,

Where no one finds it;

And Azul will once again be the winner,

Blue will be spilled the tomorrow morning,

As always.

Well, for now,

Night ‘seems’ to have won,

Golden ‘seems’ to have left,

Just the way everyone who once came,

Has, by now, left;

Left, if they ever came,

Left I am,

Still gazing;

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