Tuesday, December 29, 2015

Still feet

Death stopped me at the door
Went away without answering the questions
I could only throw at what he left behind ---
That is not who he was
Lying still, with unseeing eyes
Not breathing, or complaining any more
Only the shell, the empty pod
The nest needed no more
The shadow of the flame
Headed for the funeral pyre
And what will be left over
Will be given to the restless sea;
Before he called time
What was the wander lust
That tugged at his feet
Took him back to his native haunts
Deities he could not take his eyes from
Rivers that suddenly sprang to life
He traveled miles to see
Afterwards, he couldn't remember his way back
Perhaps, knew what was waiting for him at home
Like a creditor, whose patience had run out

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