Skip to main content

Death is Beautiful

Retracing love, years gone by
Silent soft wind, embracing cold skin
Liquid night, flowing sensual, almost
Strings vibrating, melodies actually
Golden touches, piercing memories
What music, makes me remember this
if not the music of passion, elegy
notes in blood, voices of death.


Dancing lilies, under the moonlight
satin fabrics, not real, not a lie
From afar, a mysterious glow
light, the enemy of night, crawling
Traces of wild, green leaves black
Now and forever night, death grips
Waiting eternity, but not moonlight
only mortal souls, and immortal gods.


-Gp 2005- 18/3/2005

* we live our life fearing death, but not knowing that death in essence is beautiful. Delivering us from the slow desolate life, the sadistic touch of each second, reminding us that were insignificant. Death is a gift to us from Time, itself sacrificing by carrying our burden.

* Wrote this under immense pain. Yes, my depression's back, again, been having this more regularly these days. Sometimes it makes me think what physical pain really is, when the pain of depression is much more, slowly eating, crippling the spirit. Its as if, our soul laid bare on a flat surface and we watch and feel as it slowly crumbles and fade bit by bit and we cant do anything about it. Each inch of the soul severed slowly, with a sharp knife, dripping blood means nothing, its only colour, numb in our eyes.

*Sometimes I feel my heart skipping a beat, once every couple of seconds, don't know which skip will be fatal, but hope there is a reprieve for me from the valley of death, just for a while. I have many dreams, hopes to achieve, but this pain, halting time, just never stops eating me. Im forcing my fingers to type. Forcing my brain to think, spell words, forcing my eyes to read, stay alive.

* We truly are mortal in every sense of the word. We truly belong to the night. Only God can be immortal; someone needs to bury us and remember us, and hes the only one left later, after. In death the only beauty we see is the dark. During death the only company we have is the moonlight. We hear the music that carries us slowly towards the end. And on the way, slowly, our memories are erased. You can almost feel the pain when each moment is erased forever, but then when we die do we remember? Guess the creator knows better, he watched before, many more pain.

- Rest in Peace. Anbe Sivam. -

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

while it lasts

First Contact, Remixed

On the last Thursday of the year, about half past 10 local time, they landed in the garden of the White House. The security never knew what hit them, in no time all the men in blue and black and whatever colour they’re in were rolling on the ground laughing. Apparently the aliens hit them with laughing gas. Good, now we know they have some sense of humour and wont bomb us…hemmm…senseless. Another half an hour went past, the president was hiding under his table, the secret service nowhere in sight. Thinking of the worst, he reached for his cell phone and dialled 911 with his trembling fingers. So much for him, the aliens UFO, which funnily enough is shaped like a saucer, lighted up like a Las Vegas casino, sans neon signboard. A door opened up and from it rolled down a weird looking robot with a huge plasma screen TV for its head. Words fail to describe alien technology, literally, so I’m using earth analogy. Oh, and by the way, I am the dude, who saw it all.

The president peering from …

...you

for, its during the rainy seasons
when we sit admiring
the cool breeze and wandering droplets
we realize we are admiring the beauty of loneliness
from afar, of you and me

[feast]