What could be more spellbinding
than the night that hides
all the imperfections of world?
As fair as death,
...
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I finally found a way to post my reply. Hahaha! (the power of scrolling down) Thanks, Rohith! Not knowing when to call it an ode is the reason I called it a prose. LOL!
Exactly, death is fair and this world is imperfect. a nice poem. top marks.