Why did they spend so much time there
in the anteroom of death?
What could they prepare?
Paper possessions as light as breath
were too heavy for their dead to bear
away from the fire.
Why did they keep their eyes
on pyramid, tomb and funeral pyre?
Even the wise.
Why did they go
into the shadow
and stare
at the nothing there?
Monumental keepsakes
built with all the patience of eternity.
Can we not wake
from all these dreams of our identity?
You’ll not find
time between breath and breath
to hold them safe
within your mind
at death.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Truly, Why have they built those pyramids? They would have done something good to common man. A very thoughtful poem indeed
Thank you. Brian