Prophecy: There I was,
cold as a rotten fish,
hypnotic of my selfish deed,
I did call upon the illuminated night,
to take the care of my divine self,
for I wanted the wings of a bird,
soar to a limit alien to me,
Do the unforgetful to man,
and lie at His Footstool.
And, now, here I am,
free from the World that brought pain,
have broken those soulful chains,
have allied myself to the prophecy-
which all together conspired against Me.
and as some may say-
under the sodden Earth Today I lay…
To hell : under sodden Earth,
may lay a flesh,
which in course of memory,
find something- find Himself,
The veins that held crimson-
no longer Alive.
I say, for the blood still gushes,
into the broken skull.
A night of darkness,
aloofness of my senses-
“Is it immortality Or just Me?”
This question may have an answer Nil,
For You may have survived still.
But he who lays,
no mere immortal-
but the corpse of Mud,
that Today belongs to its Creator-
To Hell it Seems.