Soliloquy of a Stillborn Life

Soon I shall be gone

Will there be anyone to mourn?

There will be nothing but a stone

Resting on the bones of a life, stillborn.

 

The pages of my torn book,

The manuscript that no one would look,

Would litter the boneyard

Like leaves swept by a solemn wind, southward.

 

Time would stand muted, holding the empty end

Of a broken kite-string that it failed to mend.

The destiny, the dream, both wounded from a life-long fist fight

Would sing the requiem of a life’s plight.

 

The meaning of my work, hard to know

When I am alive and shouting now

Would in the end,  dawn on this world

When beneath the earth, silently I curled.

 

~Trilok~

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s