Up In Smoke, April 2013



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




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