Ode to Death

There is no passion to be found in playing small – in settling for a life that is less then the one you are capable of living.

like an assassin, will you creep up on me in stealth?
when my lungs have run out of breath. Oh death! Oh death!
when the black wires on my head have turned to grey
and my bones have not the strength to face the day.
will you come and sweep me off my feet, like a broom?
into the glad gloom of an everlasting doom.
or will you simply strike me down like the lightning?
even before my adult years reach an ending.

Oh death! Oh death! i know the vas of my body
will decay with time. but please let it not be today.

Oh death! Oh death! whatever shall happen to my mind?
when my warm and pulsing body it fails to find.
will it wander around, a lost child in distress?
looking for the guidance of one who’s a compass
to point north in the direction of salvation.
or will it find a homey accommodation?
within the grand walls of the universal mind
that controls everything from the blowing wind
to the growing greenery that sprouts from the earth.
do not let my mind wander around. Oh death! Oh death!

when my psyche has reunited with the universal mind
and the vessel of my body is in the ground.
will the human essence of my being remain whole?
Oh death! Oh death! will the cradle of my life, my soul
be born again into another lifetime?
or will it too, suffer the effects of an eternal death?

© The Poets Peace 2019 – Lazarus Shatipamba

Advertisements

The Shining Star

If past history was all there was to the game, the richest people would be librarians.

Warren Buffet

Oh! What can ail thee, shining star in the sky?’
That have watched over me from a place afar;
With your wandering eye, there were the birds fly,
Way up high in the sky to hide from the war.

For many years have I been bright in the night.
Whilst watching over the warm earth with my eye,
I have seen many a thing has dimmed my light.
Such as when you humans make each other cry.

For many years have I watched you from afar.
And even from here I hear sounds as men die,
Rippling through the still air into my ear.
Making me cry as tears with my eye I spy.

And just as men get wounds fighting in the war.
And get nasty scars that cling to them for life.
So has this shining star been wounded with scar,
By what he saw that cut him like a sharp knife.

And so, this pain I gained in my side;
Is what ails a shining star in the sky,
At night when his light is not so bright.

© 2019 The Poets Peace

Buy me a pen and paper?

To Times

If you light a lamp for someone, that same lamp lights your path.

There are times, when I’m wide awake in a state of sleep.
Times when in the midst of a bad dream, I can see deep-
Into the soul of a world so sad it cannot tell,
The haven of heaven, apart from the ruin of hell.

Then there are times, when I’m asleep in a wakeful state,
So that I must be dreaming with my eyes open wide,
To see the vision of a knight riding on a mare-
On a quest to quench the thirst, of that us did try to scare.

© 2019 The Poets Peace