His Rage

Rainfall drip-drop,

Like drippy tip

Of a granite ceiling,

Echoes twice or thrice,

Every a second or two,

Sudden deafening, furious roar

Of tormented, disappointed

Soul in this chasm of solitude.

A blindingly lit stage,

A thunderous applause

Of anticipation and emancipation,

For the jester

In hope of light and merry

Cackling his way

Like the mockery,

The laughter in his head.

The quantum

Of no beginning nor end

Where the truth lies and the lies be true

Where the truth ends and the lies begin

The circle, perfected

The continuum

Of endless treachery and deceit

Hence, he felt

Rage.

Delaqroux Inc. 2011

-His Rage

(as submitted in Receipt Stories, 5th March, 2011)