Last Stop


51

There is a last stop in all of us
A place our soul consents to rest
Few were the moonlit nights
That I’ve truly cared for after all

In the alphabet of stars
Time carried me until I was
Completely different
And with a fatigue of thought

I settled on dying a white death
After people were forgotten
There were still my dreams
Dreams I had held on to in spite

Of difficulties, tempests, dishonour
But memory is just a day
When somebody we cared for

Is replaced by somebody else or
The fleeting thing of hours
The turbulent street where everything blurs.

GOODBYE


19

Let your burdens, and our blind mischances
Rest, this is the luckiest to know
That we are not unique, the kindest truth
And that our souls may freely come and go

We must at least renounce breath
And the musky annointment of tired lungs
The certain tang in an off-beaten heart
The weary weight of years in bones

It is not for us to say, what were the fruit
Of blooming wisdom or peace that stepping back
To loving simplicity, the omens of
What comes next, that we have not always

The time to say goodbye, because we live
By instinct, and follow particular bearings
From the source, no backward glances then
No ceremony, for irregular events that fit together

In the story of our time, whose full dimensions
Remain unknown, or without prescident.