A Clown's Funeral Poem by Aman Mulji

This is a story of dreams so cold,
A tale by Misery still untold,
So cold no one dare speak,
A lonely heart in a landscape bleak,
All he desired was entombed in age,
Two souls on a lonely blazed page,
He only sinned when he loved,
Only when he gazed into her crystal eyes,
Only when he listened to Misery’s deception,
The mind is restless; the clouds begin to shiver,
He needs to survive this grey wailing winter,
He is nothing but a dead leaf in the autumn breeze,
Why did she steal his breath?
Rob him of his only reason?
To such beauty, what treason be passed?
None for I still seek her,
She congeals the spaces in me,
Piercing the mind is the truth,
And the Clown’s mask is on my face,
All I see is shadows during spring,
Can I be alike him,
Would he laugh instead of sobbing on the devils lap?
No…that’s not real – I’m not real,
Now she needs me no more,
And the mask is wearing off,
He and I be one inner being,
And the Clown was murdered by Misery,
Let’s enjoy his funeral…