Monday, April 18, 2016


Death is the beggar
pleading to you for mercy
found at the street corner
embalmed in stink
staring helplessly at
his begging bowl.

Death is the master
punishing you for your sins
striking with a million lashes
for mortal cowardice.
Death is the latest suitor
who has bought your sanity
for a million unanswered questions
whose absence strikes like lightening
and melts in the babel of birds
singing an elegy, dumping you
to perish in the litter of leaves.
Death is the black box
gilded in gold
cut to carry your bones
the most comfortable home
that doesn't deny
for the riches you don't possess.
Death is the iceberg
the tip of which we all
will touch one day
to perish, and resurrect
under a golden sun
shedding our shrouds
the last skin we'll wear
as our loved ones pluck the
'forget-me-nots' rooted
around our grave.
Death is the only promise
life ever gave, naked we came
bare-footed will we go
with clenched fists
that opened at our birth.

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