Just when I put my mortality behind me
Somebody I know dies; the scourge of daylight
Drops its existential contents and mental bricks
Onto your lap, the comfort zone of life.
This vanquishes you; you need to lay down
On a bed of roses, but a mattress will suffice,
(beds bridge the gap from light to mythic dark) .
Starry nights go unnoticed, they take to
The streets, no longer trusting the celestial
Places they used to feel good in, or drew inspiration.
Pascal's dream makes little sense, like sailing
On an exhausted sea; waves too lazy to topple you.
It seems the blank slate was never blank, it
Held a bold message; exclamation points giving birth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem