The Bucket List

I should have gone to touch the ocean

And watch the golden sun disk rise

Above the line of the horizon

In this one life at least one time;

/

I should have let white winds embrace me

Up on the sharpest mountain peaks;

I should have dared Saharan heat to melt me

As I chased after desert ghosts and visions;

/

I should have learned forbidden spells and curses

And in my heart reforged them into prayers;

I should have fought, not run, from battles;

I should have bled, and won, and lost;

/

I should have easier abandoned

Those who would waste a second of my life,

I should have easier surrendered,

And watched with calm the passing of my hours;

/

I should have doubled and returned

Each smallest gift I have been granted;

I should have used up every breath that

I did not know the worth of till tonight;

/

Tonight it is too late to travel

To see the sun spread wings over the sea;

Tonight’s no time to climb a mountain

For tonight it is monsoon season;

/

Tonight all desert jinns are sleeping

A sleep no human can disturb;

Tonight no witch, no ghost, no demon

Need teach me: by myself I’ll learn

/

That fights are only for the living,

That blood, victories and defeats

Are merely clouds, forever crossing

The skies above the river Styx;

/

I fidget in my empty pockets:

What little that I had is gone;

All I have left is but two coins

To pay the ferryman Charon

Two-Faced

You sit so peacefully before me:

Your hands rest, cold, upon your knees;

Your eyes half-closed, you smile a little,

Your breath so deep that I hardly hear it…

/

You must have gone again to wander

In pasts and futures, in nightmares and dreams,

To fight the bloodiest of battles

Against the mightiest of demons;

/

And as I watch your frozen figure,

I wonder if I know at all

What kind of mind and soul inhabit

This body and this heart of yours;

/

I sense you are both good and evil,

As short as time, as long as time;

I look, but cannot really see you,

I try to understand, but can’t;

/

You make me fear and make me hope that

Beyond your face, mine, and all others

There’s not a Dorian Gray’s portrait:

Instead, there is an emptiness called ‘god’

The Runaway Train

Endless rails sing your tale in the rain

And winds chase you aross empty valleys and plains;

Lonesome stations as if retreat into themselves

At no more than a hint of your name;

/

For as long as there’s fire in your metal veins

And ahead of you — space and more space,

You will fly like a dream through the day

Till the dreamer derails you, her runaway train

Fragmented

Another piece of you I bury

Between green folds of budding leaves,

Asleep tonight like all the people

Whose eyes with mine again won’t meet

/

And every memory of triumph,

And jabs of pain echoing in the mind,

Like letters to remain unopened

By human hand, I leave behind

/

My shattered heart’s razor-edged pieces

I have been planting as I walked,

Like seeds to grow from hell to heaven,

As I’ve been traveling the earth

/

They grow on giant timeless mountains

And in white sands beneath the seas,

On paths which men no longer follow

Because of where such paths might lead

/

Each piece in my chest with each heartbeat

I feel as it, defying time,

Sends me a quiet but sure signal

From the lives I’ve lived and the deaths I’ve died

/

I wish my heart were big enough to

Embrace each life and death there is,

But the world is a whole, while my heart – fragmented

So within the whole I plant the pieces

/

Until there’s nothing left of me