PRELUDE TO A NIGHTMARE

O, to awake but not be breathing;
Yet, feel the air of the bitter winds blowing
Touch its texture, feathery, fleeting
Caught in the fearsome flight or its wings.

O, to smell but with scents taken away
Only whiffs of dull stones, lifeless and grey
For flowers are dead, though they bloomed yesterday.
Replaced by the stench of dreary decay,

O, to hear but hear mere sounds of nothing;
In a distance, perhaps the winds whispering
They are but echoes, far flung and fading
The sinister silence so silent and seething.

O, to see but in darkness, alone
Only sight of skulls, cold flesh and bare bones
Laid across a thousand tombstones
All carved with one name-the one name, my own.

O, to awake and be out of that door,
An experience, only a fool would ignore.
O Life, I beg, beseech and implore
Grant me the beauty of breath, once more.

O, to awake; but not be breathing.
And I shall breath
Once more.


~~~ Manzil ~~~

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