A terse dream this was,
broken, anguished, blurred,
of which a fragment remains
in my memory, embedded.
A wayward bullet strikes
at lightening speed your chest,
passing through it spears,
calmly, through my breast.
Locked in a gaze we stand,
as love flows out the wounds.
Caught tight in death’s hand
as the dream softly fades.
On waking, for long I ponder;
did our souls our bodies flee
at the same moment, together?
Did they merge to become free?
Did pain set our insides afire?
Is sorrow the bullet that incinerates,
torching our ignorance, our desire,
and into freedom thus liberates?
broken, anguished, blurred,
of which a fragment remains
in my memory, embedded.
A wayward bullet strikes
at lightening speed your chest,
passing through it spears,
calmly, through my breast.
Locked in a gaze we stand,
as love flows out the wounds.
Caught tight in death’s hand
as the dream softly fades.
On waking, for long I ponder;
did our souls our bodies flee
at the same moment, together?
Did they merge to become free?
Did pain set our insides afire?
Is sorrow the bullet that incinerates,
torching our ignorance, our desire,
and into freedom thus liberates?
Brilliantly written ! Class! But how can freedom result in pain and sorrow? It all is, perhaps, a precursor to freedom. Right? . :)
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDelete