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Dr Peter Lim Jan 2018
Love has four letters
hate has similar number
much of life revealed
Dr Peter Lim Jan 2018
I'll look into the future
the past I can't change
the prologue
I had written long ago
is now but sand washed
from the languishing shore
into the tumultuous  sea of time

(now the interregnum)

all that which
had gone before
I count as folly
and trivia-
love and hate
doubts and fears
the questioning
the angst
that wouldn't abate
the right direction
I missed
I didn't know
where to go--

( realisation--
  through pain
and tears
I stepped into
  a new long-awaited morrow)

I've since outgrown
the weeds--
in the field
of experience
a new life
I've assumed

though I'm
still a bud
but I know
someday
this would grow
silently flower
and in the gentle breeze
steadily it would blow-

the essence
that life must be
should appear
in the final chapter
the epilogue
that summarises all--

what I would be
is not for others to see
for in this simple corner
at the brink of time
only I
and I alone
could measure
what I truly am
have I lived?
have I betrayed myself?
what do I stand for?
do I sell myself short?
what else do I have to deplore?

from the epilogue
I'll return to the present
bridle in the prologue
a new map
I would draw
where road-blocks
are absent
and forward
I'll walk
engaging
in a dialogue
of my own
every step ahead
on my planning board
I'll highlight
with a strong chalk--

salvation
there's not
but only
within the spot
where my heart and mind
intersect
blend
mutually support

where the rough edges
have been shorn
and a fertile interior
has been born--

where thoughts and feelings
are synchronised
like an orchestra
where all sounds of instruments
are in rapport and tunefully harmonised--

the prologue
must end
in the epilogue

to the sky
at night
I would look
even in the faintest light
as the hours creep by
silently and unnoticed

I would no longer
have tears and know not
how to sigh or cry
as to all that's gone before
I would happily bid goodbye--

in that somewhere
of time
which would be
hidden from my eye
that moment
I would welcome
and embrace
as what has been
predestined
in the mysterious scheme
willingly I would accept

I have lived well
(regret I have none)
my earthly task
has been done
a wondrous experience
it would be to die
into a new beginning
I'm returning home
which was my prologue
long have I travelled
and far did I roam

it's the same gate
that did usher me in
at the very start
now it welcomes me
to pass through
in fullness of heart--

without
the prologue
there would be
no epilogue

nothing that does exist
in life and time
is ever lost--
the prologue
and epilogue
are inter-locked
they leave each other not--

the river flows
into the sea
the waters
become one
not a drop
is not absorbed

life is a mystery
relived
somewhere
beyond the claim
of time
it magnifies
it never dies--

when tired eyes
wake from sleep
from the night before
the awakened
will be greeted
with a bright light at dawn
and all joys
shall be theirs
to eternally keep.
Dr Peter Lim Jan 2018
Tonight
it would be hard
for me to sleep
my duty
I performed
shabbily
I hurt
mindlessly
my promises
I failed to keep--

my excuses
sleep
would not overlook
or forgive
deep
inside
it's as though
some worms
are beginning to creep
gnawing
at my whole being
how could I sleep?

when poisons
seep
into the blood-system
when conscience
bites
at the seam
when
loud internal voices
ring to condemn
where would
I find sweet memories
to keep?

what I sow
I reap

it's well past midnight
but how could I sleep?
Dr Peter Lim Jan 2018
Does our mind
have an underground
where our innermost secrets
are hidden
immersed in murky waters
which we would never want
to revisit?
(the door to the key
we had flung into
some faraway sea
so long ago)

there's no darkness
that's gloomier
than this
our purgatory--

don't mention
Freud--he wouldn't know
even his own mind
he struggled to understand

the brain
is not the mind
and the mind
is not the brain
(grey matter is substance
thought has no form)

don't mention
the neuroscientist
he's but a machine-reader
and all machines
have faults
where's the dwelling place
of genius
and how are thoughts born?
(it's stupid to guess-
science and technology
are in their infancy)

if one knows not
what one's own mind is
how would others?

I would not go down
the path of thinking again
let me be a child
let me escape the prison
of my own making

give me
a fresh corner
(however small)
of a distant field
let me sow
new seeds
born of pain
and suffering
this time
I know
a new plant
would grow

sprouting
into the sky
seen by all
I would have nothing
to hide

and my underground
would go away
forgotten
and vanish
for evermore.
Dr Peter Lim Jan 2018
***** looked into bin
found a rotting banana
his eyes spoke of joy
Dr Peter Lim Jan 2018
Hot soup on table
buzzing fly dives into it
my dinner delayed
Dr Peter Lim Jan 2018
City's strip-tease joint
giggling of female voices
bouncer stands outside
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