The silent bell tolls at past midnight
In the ears of a dead man alive
With eyes blacker than teabags
Rotten by nature’s wrath

Coffee stains spread through the linen sheets
Of fragile hands from the mug it spilled
Where dreams dwell in an aroma
That cures a corpse from intoxication

Silence haunts the suburbs
Kissing gently the panes of dark-lit abode
In the last street where the luminous specks dwell
It peeks through the wide-eyed drowsiness

Swooshing pages on a corner bed
With glasses eyeing on traces of black ink
The hard bound thing overshadows the pieces
Of paper like fire which crackles and crumples lazily

The daylight will meet the sky very soon
And yes, past and future both embrace
In the mind of a learned who keeps on learning
With his pen on the bed, tirelessly scribbling in eternity

Montage Vol. 10 • December 2006


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