Life and Death

Your life defined in subtle, ruthless words. You will hate it if life has loved you, you will love it if all you have received is hatred.

What is life but a dream

in flitting fragments of past

lay scattered our memories.

unreasoned and unread,

unfathomable yet ordinary.

On our hallucinating mind,

night must live on

to lure us with its unending illusions,

our sleep must be very sound.

 

A fire to burn away one’s energy

a passion to give away breathes to,

this is whole of our life

withered, wasted, weaned or won

all have reasons to run.

 

A tender bud given in callous hands

Either blossoms into flower

or is crushed for fragrance

Each petal must dry and drop

and be lost forever into sands.

 

A drop of dew on the edge of foliage

which must leave its green bed and run

either to perish into dust

or to rise, grow and cloud the sun.

 

A kiss of covetous lips

adorned with bride’s tears

breathed and fulfilled

or a trace of passion

scorned and mocked

on prostitute’s bed.

 

What’s life but a burning castle

crumbling before the eyes

breathe by breathe

the haven of thoughts.

First drops the roof smoldering one day

upon which my childhood lay.

Then burns my youth’s passions

in scorching glitter of unfathomed illusions.

Sapped of all its gumption and grandeur,

tired and old

too burdened to bear a beating heart,

finally it crumbles down cold.