Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Empty sky above the head;
Wilderness below, and where am I?
I am just like a hornbill in penance,
Longing for a drop of rain water,
To quench the persistent thirst.
Can you give me a drop to wet my throat?
All my senses are fuming in despair,
In the centre, of a sacrificial fire.
(Fire on four sides, and sun above.)
Could anyone be kind enough to
Pour a thimbleful of holy water,
Into my scorching soul and satiate
My thirst, for a moment to revive me?
Death is awaiting at the doorstep, with a hearse
To carry me away into utter darkness.
And when the grills on the cage of my spirit
Shatters, by the flaps of my soul fluttering
On its sides, and shatter them away,
Is there anyone who can moisten
My blistering lips in those last moments,
With some water drops of life, to prolong
My existence in this earth?