Abstract thoughts would waft as he gazed in to the void world beyond,
History would dance on the palette of joy as this eccentric soul daubed imageries so fond.
A romantic soul whose age would defy, but heart needed no reason to flutter.
But alas, a mother abdicated her prodigal son while humanity could only stutter.
Poetry set ablaze from canvas of love, parochial thoughts construed humiliation,
Posterity shall always be fida, not knowing that he was buried without a nation.
