The western skies is overcast with clouds in an uncaricatured morning of June;

Before the dew-drops disperse or glitter at the edges of grasses, clouds' frenziness dishevelled humans' furry Heaven.

Still, by the stream, flow all tiny boats; and men,
in hurry, to day's half-fulfilment return home, and promise to come again.

By every breathe, under oblivion women
rush to ransack their children where they never expected them to go, for 'tis time to heavy rain and thunder in repetations.

And I, being alone under the shade of old coconut leaves, cry and shout to hold and grasp the situation in a positive way.

Not due to pray to the God, nor the dote of love to him, but my believe in Him made the situation wrought.