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IS TIME BRUTAL ENOUGH
IS TIME BRUTAL ENOUGH
Who still heaves a sigh?
Ain’t Nothing like the Moon!
Why would a word be written?
Ain’t Nothing like a Memorial!
Who is Me?
What makes me?
Ain’t nothing like an answer!
Like the broken strands of wind,
Swept over the maiden’s hand,
The fresh sap of fresh wheat in fresh golden field,
Or like the wet mud around the wet moss of the wet banks,
Am I the shine of the Sun that crumbles in the waves,
Diamond studded mesh that warms the surface of the naked river,
Am I the tomb-stone that has some fresh flowers,
What holds me?
Ain’t nothing like A Vessel!
They read books about the truth,
The deep imprint of love and war,
They instil in them the fear of god,
The same words that knit a hymn,
The same words that kill a being,
Am I the filthy scripture,
Meaningless and brimming with hatred, rules, hollow Faith?
The fall is here,
Corpse floating in the emerald waters,
Dead amber leaves and dry morels creep on mud,
Baked broken basked betrayed belittled,
Are these the offspring that grow on me?
Is she Cynthia, who descends from the moon,
Looking for the sheep that hide inside the bushes,
Who writes this?
Ain’t Nothing like an Endymion!
A girl young and pretty,
A boy young and handsome,
Both talk in a language,
New to all, beyond perception,
What can’t the man understand is a sin!
He kills the boy, rapes the girl,
The girl floats on the naked river,
The corpse stuck in an iron mesh,
The fish is caught,
The dinner prepared,
The dried leaves burnt,
The morels boiled in broth,
The hymns read in harmony,
Oh her eyes burn!
Cynthia is gone,
Who will now write her epic?
Ain’t nothing like love!
Who destroyed it?
Is time brutal enough?
When finds no answers,
The nature drops the curtains of fog,
The pall of shame,
Like a mother hiding the sins of her children,
Like smoke from crematorium,
The mist rises from the river,
The hymns have grown louder,
The darkness at peak,
What shines behinds the horizon?
Ain’t nothing like the Sun!
Can’t be…
