The Birth Of An Epitaph Poem by Mihaela Pirjol

Tonight the moon has sunken in darkness,
and the stars have lost their lustre;
for my lover's lunar face has abandoned my eyes,
and I sink in darkness with the stars…

The candle-flame flickers sickly
in scents of oleander, cicadae, and humidity:
solitary in a solemn renunciation, —
celebrating the nocturnal death.

This poem was born from
the cosmic conflagration of love:
it is the stardust, —thirsty for life;
but through the lines, I sense its
short-lived, ephemeral existence,
perishing upon the paper…

It feels to be written as an epitaph
for the burial of an unlived love;
for the burial of the aborted embryo,
which was never conceived…
(the impediment of permanence…)

If a life has never been alive; then,
not even an epitaph could prove
its motive for existence; —
for there is nothing to commemorate;
and yet, it is the epitaph of my life,
separated from that of my lover…