One time,
Now or in the future,
Clear or blurred in dimness,
Certainly I will go,
Back to my origin,
In which I was happily extant,
Before I ventured in my mother’s womb
Back to this realm I will gate-defy
Leaving my skin an empty husk,
And go there riding in a wagon of death,
Pain and grief in dutiful caesura won’t be;
My fellow passengers or sailers,
Only oblivion to the past a sure pal,
Kissing and messaging my bodiless me,
From which I derive solace for my past,
The life I went through on the crest of
Extremes in goodness and matchless pale;
Untimely demise coming in union with a kismet,
Having me buried minus a coffin, a shroud. Perhaps,
Not even a dirge or an elegy from eminent mouths,
As my cadaver hangs in hermetic darkness; unlit hut,
On a home-made catafalque, willow in stature like nothing,
The man died of erstwhile sham diet and Medicare,
Will be shelved and hanged like a fish on the rack,
Hence am thankful do you death,
Master of the un-mastered souls,
My beautiful darling and love,
Of my heart from bottom to brim
And comforter of the hopeless,
Thanks for taking me away
In the way so miserly,
In a beautiful out-beat
To the truck terrorist
Or the Suicide bomber
Or the Guns of juba,
Or the Ebolavirus
Or
Any
In
The
Ilk…
