I am an idealist

But

when I see the moon

shining up

far from my window

despite the darkness

thunder of light roars

a silent scream

glittering and serene

It looks depressed

and I appear gloomy

but ideally that is the peak

when I suck all the sorrows

of the realistic world

through the loop of melancholic ideas.

If ideas are what make me

What reality do you talk about!

what existence and non existence

It all merges!

Though appears dead

but,

in silence

I see the beauty that resonates