Skeptical Notes

Death is not a discovery but an invention
A rejected apology and life…
Life is less than a gallery of self-made portraits.
To justify forgiveness …
people divide time into years, months and weeks
To deny their belief in space
people build boundaries between mine and yours
worship property and baptize stillborn words
To incriminate faith people write diaries
always about their other selves
never about who they pretend to be.
You can’t be missed unless you are completely gone
It’s a sad fact that oxygen is taken for granted
But its worth is no secret and no regret
they say we are either choosers or beggars
we can share a sunrise but not a sunset
burst into laughter or tears
monitor a sarcastic firework disaster
have our own names chosen and our own graves built
underground
with dreams grown inside oysters
trapped inside the circle of guilt
According to fairytales
written by old children who won’t play
Today is a much younger tomorrow than yesterday.

13 years of missing...

Afraid

I knew to be safe inside you only.
My omniscient past with
Your formal wings, protective, never – flown like
A greedy kernel of complexity.
Caressing the appearance of a rainbow.

Never has death acknowledged any ages
Under the long-witnessing pale-looking moon
You are as young as the abandoned infants.
The whitest of the whitest.
The soonest and my soon.

Inscrutable morality-
A shelter and a coffin of my dreams!
So still and still so worthy of your dormant layers
I HAVE fearED.
The absence of our home is homesick
You’re missing and I’m missing you.
My native fever
My flawless platitude
My sail ...my settle down...my volunteering sunset.