Death. Poem by Prabir Gayen

Death
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In a dead city
dead place
among dead people,
I am moving as dead body.
No sign of life is seen
In my dead eyes,
Mind is weak like dead dream,
Soul is dead with dead chase.
Wings that floated years ago
Died years ago,
Now the practice of death
each moment,
Each dead moment.
Surface of the mind is dead,
With dead center,
Moment is getting lost,
Into the womb of dead desire.
The sun rises and dies,
The Moon glitters with dead light,
Stars are dead may be
thousand years ago,
Only dead light travelling
in dead space.
Each incoming breath is dead,
Every outgoing breath dies outside.
Within the catacomb of time
play and display of death is visible,
Mind dies and being is not reborn.
With the death of hopes
and aspires,
Ambition died with Nature.
I am a dead poet with dead poetry,
My poetry is an excuse
to tread on dead ways,
I have no way to walk,
Destiny is dead.
Where to go from where
and what to achieve?
All achievement is dead
and baffled my way of living,
Living is a great false,
A great pretence,
Only to smile with vain attempt.
Waiting day and night with
great hope to fall on the shore,
The dead shore for dead
soul like me,
A dead rejuvenation.
Death of mind failed to bring life,
Life is a great show of death,
No better death is found
than life itself,
Life is a beautiful tomb
with fragrant flower with
dead petals.
Every throbbing heart
is dead with thought,
Throbbing like engine
having no pulse,
The pulsation of heart
is polluted
with dead pursuit,
The highest knowledge
of life is about death,
Life is a celebration of
funeral pyre,
Death like waves leaps
on the lawn of mind,
Wetting the fire that
burns inside,
Death like dream lives
killing dream life endorses,
Pain that is dead lying
flat inside mind,
Only sweeping is needed
to make it empty,
But the urge to drive is dead,
Fire is dead to wash
the dead mind.
Now poetry is my vehicle
to spread my dead thought,
To pass into nothingness where
Ultimate death is in deep trance.
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