mercredi 13 juillet 2011

At the Station

653 moons have shone
through my windows
since the day I was born:
How many more will there be
before my soul takes flight
and touches its crusty surface?

I long for death the way
some people long for happiness,
yet I am not depressed:
I only seek the end of this body
that enthralls me in a dying shell
and forges its bogus signature.

What shall be revealed
is the greatest secret,
and I taste it every time
the moon rises over the trees
and whispers sweet nothings
in my inner ear.

Have no fear, sister soul,
of that spinning top
moving o'er the mountains:
It is only Liberation Train
coming to pick you up
at Blessèd Station.

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