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

The Gift of Nothing

A gift of nothing from no one

Awaits me deep in the forest

Of withered trees and dry foliage,

Of echoes of long-dead songs


I look across the glass river,

The banks of which are my playground,

Whose liquid glass is my water,

Whose changing name is unknown


I look across at the forest,

Waiting for the gliding ferry

To come and dock at my threshold

So I could welcome Him home


He brings me voices of strangers

And coins from faraway countries;

He tells me stories of people,

Whom only He could have known


He says one day he will give me

My gift of nothing from no one,

And on that day He will tell me

The river’s name and His own

P.S.: Something to listen to if you liked the poem