As Aged I Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

As aged I
I the Poet Seer
turned the Coin of Life
from Conscious to Sub-Conscious
face
around:
no, no silent sound
but
in my verses crept
graves tombs and cemeteries
and
shrouds and ghosts and marches
in the nights of sabers long
marching, marching
trudging:
and sighing bridge, trees bent,
after dusks, mild and violent
nights of stars
and otherwise: tempests
and glooms
hanging as the swords of Damocles
hanging
as the guillotine over Danton
over the old City houses
time to go:
leave
just leave
the Coin of Life turn to Sub-Conscious face.