Last Days

Driving through this highway of no light,
Windscreen smothered with filth,
The mirror brings little respite
To see the lights flashing by.

Just enough to view the inside,
The flashlights are mere candles
In this road so dark,
The night so windy.
*

Walking through the tunnel so dark,
The bright light incinerating slowly.
The distance unfathomable,
The darkness unobliterable.

Innumerable known faces,
Groping through the memory,
Have all gathered together
To guide the soul to sanctity.

Obligations to fulfill,
Desires to meet,
The long lost ones
Awaiting impatiently to greet!



---- a person in his last days...

The Wingless Butterfly

Meandering through the silvery night
Your fatal attraction drawing me near,
Shaping the vague silhoutte
Enshrouding the misty cradle of my dreams;
Praying that never does
The opaque clouds veil you---
Oh! Enchanting Full Moon!
Oh! The irresistible goddess of the night!


Lost in the forest of desires
Flapping my path beside you,
The blind ones can see me
And the deaf hearing;
Not even the swans share
This ethereal road with us!


Like a bolt of thunder,
Paralysed by the excruciating pain
I see my predator vacillating above.
The futile efforts to fly away,
The somaesthesia of the tormenting grasp
I look up anticipating my death;
One last prayer for the patrician beauty,
One last sight of the indescribable moon!