While the dusk takes the leave
And the starry night paints the sky 
With Paper, pen and lamp 
I set out on a journey with Alexander supertramp
Not into the wild 
But within the self : more wilder 
Destination barely known 
I dwell, for there's a mirage of hope 
That the place where questions brood will be known 
Solitude, loneliness I find 
But not what have marred my soul 
Nature the mighty have not been kind 
But vindictive, she has immured me in my own indolent world
Drapes somehow have been kind 
To not show the fallen leaves 
Battered by the rain 
And the disrobed trees 
For my heart would cry 
Remembering those days 
Where I would smell the dust 
After the rain 
Listen to the fallen leaves sing 
Of their pain 
Hear my mother's call 
To drink soup, her handmade 
While the dusk takes the leave
And the starry night paints the sky 
I sit alone in the corner with friends of mine