The Turning Point Of My Death

This poem revolves around a conversation with death. Death is sad and melancholic. In this poem, I have imagined death to be a living creature and penned my thoughts as a conversation with it if I were to enter into the realm of death. Though it may seem sad, I have tried to add a quirky and fantasy element to it. So here it goes…

The gossamer petals in a riot of colours that danced before my half-shut eyes

Blur and fade away as I am pushed into the grey well of nothingness,

I struggle to hold on to fleeting strands of my breath reaching the sky,

My lips quiver in fervent prayer, wishing they return to the same address.

My hands freeze in your unyielding grip, I let out that last deep-seated cry,

I beg for recourse, back to my throbbing senses of pain and pleasure

A chaotic world whose esoteric paths I would rather take than bid goodbye

And travel with you in stark remorse to an unseen land of leisure.

You try to pacify me by promising to take me to The Elysian Fields

Where I can rest in peace amidst golden groves under kissing sunlight,

A rich bounty tries to quench my quintessence but it bleeds

Pardon me, I find no solace but regret that with you I take this flight.

Many a time, you blow out a lamp of life or love just lit below,

A river of tears, sometimes blood flowing there is just fine,

Remember, your stormy manifesto may succeed in planting sorrows,

But the flowers that bloom from thorns, my friend, are pristine.

A shining last drop from the corner of my eye stays a little while more,

It waits for the loving waters of my dear ones to merge with it,

Hope you see the distinctive memories they treasured, which you tore

In the haste to start on a furtive journey that swallows me bit by bit.

I know not what transpired, I am now weightless, a burden cast away,

In a boundless land, between sombre and melancholic souls, I fly,

A sheet of silver shimmers on the stratosphere, only silence plays,

My existence is unheeded, unseen, serendipity has made me shy.

I rest fascinated, looking at the innocuous blobs before you, O King!

Awaiting their decree, maybe a long wintery wait in heaven or hell

Or be chosen to traverse the physical world on life’s long wings,

It depends, as Gods say, on what took place in the Earth’s shell.

I figured out that time is galloping on nimble feet

As new souls enter into your realm while some are not seen

Sometimes, I feel I’m in heaven with everyone upbeat,

Else, I am scorched in the blazing fires and hellish screams.

In an anxious moment, my queries unwind and strike you,

‘What would you do if you were released from a human womb?

If you are bound in silken ropes of love, of more than a few,

Some so unyielding, you may carry through the years to your tomb.’

I have never heard Death laugh but then there’s always a first,

A fleeting bright colour touched you; you looked almost like Life.

I could feel the inimical bubble that surrounds you, burst,

Pity! I couldn’t narrate this wonder I saw to my wife.

‘Dear me! I have never thought of this perspective,’ you said,

‘I would perhaps live the years like any of you did, but differ,

I will care not to be careless, to feel good when I go to bed,

Never rest on the fat pillow of desires, lest I suffer.

The fragrant garden of lovely nymphs may never cloud my senses

Nor will I shed copious tears for things and men I had but not mine,

For they would remind me that there’s a reality transcending life whence

My time comes so that like you, to go back, I do not pine.’

Your pragmatism unravelled the truth all tried to hide,

Reinvigorating souls feeling betrayed and bonded in your realm,

Would it be easier to face you if we by our souls, not bodies abide

To the facts of Life and Death and think deeply…..not just dream.