My Return to Godot (2007)

Today I return to the grave of our roses,
Once called the fields of gold. Its queer,
Strange indeed to visit a realm so familiar-
So close yet gone forever. Twas a river;
Ever perennial and full of throbbing indulgence
Which now, has dried into the dreary desert
Of potent human deeds murderous in nature.
My throat still is parched with thirst, even though
The oasis stands, just a mirage nearing the
Horizon of eternal distance. Her flaming image
Is etched like a mark of birth along my heart;
Like a stone which has shaped and sharpened many a blade.
Hers was the smoothest one though, cutting without remorse
Hilt swaying with elan shining like jade.
Afraid am I trembling with fear, as the human of me
Torments my being. As hopes and wants rise and fall
Like tumultous sandstorms seldom seen. Inch by inch
I crawl to catch, the fading hope rising to storm,
Another heart or realm maybe, full of love and faith
Like me. Faith I had enough, that she would last even
After I cease. But in vain it was to hope and fret as
Fate crumbled with dextrous ease. Now I return to Godot,
To walk her lands, breathe her air, sleep with her dreams
With thoughts all bare; While she conquers my breath,
Stretches my hope, feeds my love; But all to tear...