A POEM ABOUT DEATH
Is still early
the sun is still crazy
one gets bored with a hat
and uneasy now with the usual shade of an old tree
what choice is there?
that desert has killed so many travelers
and no one came back to tell the exact story
how it happened
the usual thing is curiosity
and then finally because of too much loneliness
one finally ignores the sun
and embarks on the unanswered questions that lie in that desert
where death tells its own story
and then you will like it
and so like the rest
you too, do not come back
and when finally the sun sets
and darkness comes
there is peace in those lights that spring
from the windows of houses
and then after a moment
too, die, in the serenity of the silence
of the night.
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