And What I Go On Believing Poem by Rites Ghosh

Dark days are coming:
so many times you warned,
even simple eyes refused to see
a bit of light as life stems
lay dead here-
no sucking, no milk of light-

in the furlong distance
gravediggers are too blunt
to remember wiser cantos
beneath final closure-

coffins are coming muffled up;
they keep no flowers-
long since flowers're beheaded
by curbancle man:

heads are down in the rain,
as one day seeds have been flaunted-
rain'll fill up nothing new-
they bang up doors
and wash down hands
in barren rain taking death
infallible destiny-

dark days are coming:
you warned me too-
you, I wonder, across so many lives
throwing soul here upon
the divines from my pen, now
retreat in fear and fade

my dear, days may be dark
or darker indeed,
but not the beliefs nor egos,
infinite they are ever
not stale not curled,
I believe what I say-
death will burst black
right in that ominous day
as belief is rubbed in last clouds.