If we must never meet again:
Remember me as Bhrigu: that born out of fire
There is a beat and a drum and a sound and a silence and a disappointment
There is a cause and I am the nation of suffering
I don’t want to be in the utopia of survivors
Or in the prison of waiting
I want no part of a quiet voice
I want to see into the life of fire
There is no divine soul that inspires all men.
Madness is a tongue
Silence is a debate
I have visions of the impossible at work
Understanding revolt
To hunt without expectation
To my mistakes
To those I’ve granted consequence
Time’s a waste of mind
Detach yourself even from your begging bowl
For sounds protrude from his voice like a sick man
Starting to betray the dark
The wounded mind
Leading me to an island
And if only this year
Brought with it a wisdom
Immune to the weightiness of ages of dried blood
The calling of the form is always instructive
There was one person who stopped and his soul was too heavy to carry
I’ve lived my life
I will never talk again