(Photo by Dan Gold)
A corpse the world has turned into,
Without any ray of light.
Procrastination rules in the works to do,
Where love had just taken root, grew fight.
Regret, denial, and loathe,
Swims in my Maker’s eyes.
No promise, no plead, no oath,
To his proud shield, nor my tears suffice.
Neither planned to show, nor wished to grow,
Yet to the angry words I feed
Among all useful bounty low,
I am growing tall, a stubborn weed.
A thistle of nothingness and of harm,
Begot of an ugly wretched witch,
An unlucky old charm.
Among Swans, I am brought forth a leech.
No helplessness rests in my heart.
No pain I anymore feel.
Humanly attributes all now depart,
Of vulnerable assets I am nil.
The way ahead is mum.
Makes no noise, no call.
But come what may come.
I will head forth, even if for a fall.
Let my execution be planned.
Let my misleading fragment die.
Let my name be forever banned.
Let my soul in Hell’s fire lie.
The journey I cannot sure break.
Though I, a sinister consuming spark,
Might come out with a firing wreck,
To lead the might of the dark.
Back I not away now.
Down in the middle of the sea.
For what swim back to the shore now, and how?
I am but to drown myself away, from myself into me.
(Pallavi D. Patel)