I died in my dream last night

I died in my dream last night

I died in my dream last night -
it was an incomplete dream yet -
I saw myself greyhaired, wrinkly, inviolate
laid down on the pyre - mute faces around.
All who I have known, loved -
and having lost, learnt to hate -
were there.

Gathering and picking up the sparks of fire
in idle conversations - murmurings of a
crackling hollow nature.
Words kept wafting over to me -
"the mistral weaves its way across the desert,
from nowhere to nowhere -
the snake stares and learns,
and yet the fire burns the snake."
The fire - the fire licked my skin -
soothed and numbed the wounds of
a century of unrequited desire.
Desire, hungry desire - 'tis irony that
the ugliest are the most wanting of love,
and the beautiful the least capable.
I was born ugly, but I wished to die beautiful -

I once went to a poet -
who wrote the most magical verse
tragic, yet sweet, weak yet understanding -
Surprise was mine when I found he was blind
perhaps his not being able to see was his
best aid to vision.
Alas. How I wish this were a land of the blind.
How I wish my own reflection wouldn't rob me
of the force within.
"the snake, broken backed but, stares at the mistral -
watches the fangs of the fire swallow it whole"

A dream it was, and perchance I will die again -
tonite...
A dream is all it was -
Was it my dream which died, or
was it just me?

~ Shombuddho ~

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