In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

21 Soliloquy of Light My life, like unto the wick of the candle, is bent and gnarled. Crippled and spent, the life, in me, that was once Is naught. Dried and charred, it rests On the little wax, that will remain As it is, lifeless. It will forever Be As it is Holding the wick Unburning. Remonstrance and Reply What vagaries of youth have led to This indulgence in black and white? This tonal gradation within one colour Is just so limiting! Child, iron out your rancour And let it hang in the sun. Mothers of hate Roots of woe Sons born in hate hating grow. Born and bred in the dark I only hope to become As fair as any prize potato. ...

Share