Beyond the gaze there is a time zone
of rumored agitation
when you cannot sleep.
You open your eyes quietly to complain.
The caretaker has prepared the shroud, .
Smoke is rising on the hills.
No body walks with you,
it is a lone journey, where
centuries throw the dust on your hallowed gifts.
The pyramid of signs, symbols, signatures,
disappear in penultimate flare.
Time to leave the waiting room.
The resurrection will take place now;
of fear; of despair; of foot steps in dark.
I will hear them, holding my breath.
Landscape will change into valley of tears.
Thought provoking. Kabir says, During the first 'crossing of the bar' I wept and the whole world rejoiced, On 'cross the bar' again, I will rejoice Others will weep in anguished noise. CP
It is time to leave the waiting room, but i have come and will come again with all my sorrows, fears and happiness, someone will hold my hand, perhaps the same one.
If you are blessed with those eyes (pl. see my poem under this caption) you will enjoy this crossing the bar once again!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This poem is spiritual..... and this poem is touched my heart...I feeling well reading this poem.