Baroque

To spread or not to spread is the question
There is a certain delight
To disseminate the palpitation
The throbbing ache at the lump near the throat
Through nothing but words
Jotted hastily on the pulpit of my dream.

Perhaps I should remain silent,
Perhaps I should make an attempt
To bear all my agony and deprivation
With a little more grace and propriety.

I will stay here alone
In this gutter of endless reverie
Waiting to crawl beneath the earth
My solitary self,
I am so divested that all I can miss
Is the solitude of days bygone.

Legerdemain

Sometimes I feel like believing in God.

Sometimes it dawns upon me
That it would have been better
If I could believe that
The universe is planning and conspiring
Everything with me in mind.

Sometimes I feel the urge to be grateful
To have this gift of being here
In this very moment
Under this very sky
To have the last glimpse of this ethereal glory.

I wish I could forget
I am but an ephemeron
A wink in the breadth of eternity
A fortuitous fruit of an abysmal randomness.

I am here at last
Before they devour you, my mother
Just to witness the sigh about to befall
And the dark night consume the last shimmer;

I am here at last
The final beholder of doom
To hold my breath on the precipice of the end.