Posted in Poetry

If

What if the present is not present but dreamt?
What if the past is not past but future forecast?
For all of this, I am living now is reenacted
Of the previous life, I once lived forgotten
But not erased in the paroxysm of sadness
That my soul cannot bear without tears
And the heart refuses to shield in reason
Because the grief weighs against hope –
The forced illusory vision to staged elysium –
With every fate already weaved, cut, and shipped
To Destiny from Departure to Arrival, and again
Till the Moon orbits the Earth for 1000 years
To live 1000 lives elsewhere in whatever forms,
Each bearing pieces of cracked memories
Reflecting the central fractures of the pasts
In the circle of life, the wheel of lives.
Alas, poor soul! I know her, dear reader!
Pity her not with the condescension of charity!
But give her a rope at the end of a life
Not to fall into the cruel rat race of the rut
Not now, not ever, once, and that’s all for good.

Author:

I write stuff of my interest that does not interest anyone in my blog. No grammarians, no copy editors, no marketers, no cynics are welcome.

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