*

between salted

scarce trickles of tears

 .

darkened by heavy clouds

of comparison with others

 .

the weight of lead

the toxicity of the same

 .

I lose my way on the starred

map in the silvery night

 .

my trip on earth slowed down

heavy luggage of spoiled health

 .

may be a curse may be hummus

at times all I can do is smell it

.

or be bent under others’ gazes

my hands rest secure and my eyes

 .

see ahead they are hope filled

certain of what has to come

 .

I shall keep not my identification

with conditional or temporal

 .

will have to break that mirror

obscuring the eternal light

. 

my eyes need not to be on

watches, calendars or bills

 .

numbers fog up my path

most people do too

 .

are my thoughts aimed

at precise definitions

. 

I need to remove

not my life

 .

this I conclude

while closing

my eyes

.

.