Thursday, May 16, 2013

Crematorial Silence

And I sit alone on the top of my pyre
an eerie quietness, doing my penance
There is nothing louder than the crematorial silence 
None can see me, and the fire is lit

They all come, some weep, some happy

the smell of burning flesh, body turning to ashes
a cold chill, they have come to take me
I still love, I still feel, ergo I don't want to go

Last breath is what I had promised, but still not healed

I look at myself and see just a soul
dive deep inside to see that all I love is within
drifting away to become one with the ethereal reality



Myriad Ramblings

© 2013; Aakaash Sehgal: