On melancholy

O 'melancholy, your hectic chill for human's soul,
You with your dismal presence, any spirit does descent;
Unto dreams of tranquil, restful,
Moist, and sometimes of direful views they went.
Enigmatic woven waves are your curls,
You traverse in each mystery we bent,
Where life is few configured amid wild whirls,
Until deaths, mild eyes meet us in an airy haunt.

Nithin purple