for Tem on his last day
THE WORLD does not weep
for a quitter, no matter what
no matter how deep is your sorrow
no matter how justifying the circumstances
precipitating inside that cup of poison,
another poem is written for you
a sympathizer from another country
perhaps suffering too
or us, but it will be only for a short while,
after the last word is written and read
the world moves again, spins upon itself
to complete another revolution,
nothing is achieved much, time does not tell,
but the motion keeps on moving
like a spiral, like a steep stair moving up
only to arrive at an empty room,
i believe in something else,
that someone is waiting out there
i guess, you are right, the end is reasonable,
but the means will always be questioned.
i hope you still have time to read the poem of Mike
i guess, sincerity lies there,
i still shiver about an old age that could not wait
for more time.
at the end, who knows? but you cannot tell. You are silent
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