The full moon kindles the bipolar mind:

like a hunter hard on his prey, the nights

revive a dark, dysphoric mood; then grind

the soul to abject lows from perfect heights.

And when from states of bliss to states of woe

the spirit goes, even a king born high

longs for enduring sleep where the dead go;

where the departed no more howl or cry.

But if this dour dilemma be his plight,

then he shall fight it to his final breath;

and receive only then his promised flight

to heaven, where there's no more tears or death!

For kings will not be bipolar coerced,

so long as in the Kingdom they're well-versed.

By Ngoc Nguyen

From: United States