How come so melancholy can a man be-

Is it because he forgot to rise with the sun--Nature's beauty?

Or sleep without the moon -Earth's glory caressing his body?

Might it be the wind --God's breath passed ignoring his existence?

Nay, none of these are the answers.
He, the melancholy, couldn't find his soul
that loves nothing more.

Nothing more can quench his thirst which
used to indulge in the world of knowledge;

Nothing more can light his desire which
used to wander in heaven and hell.

Peace or war; wise and fool;
Good or bad; Happy and sad.
All's indifferent to him, All in vain.
What else could one see through his eyes?
Only thing's void!