Quiet

quiet submission to death
took away a whole army of my teachers
painters
philosophers
writers
one by one they were silenced
not one survived the fortunes of this place
upon becoming deceased
some were hastily burnt to ashes
others covered with earth
for weeks devoured by maggots
rhythms of the  weather
futile funeral processions
I have become a witness to the holocaust
of my world
bridges to better days are burnt beyond repair
cosmos collapsed
all my supposedly eternal waves of wisdom
lost their original source and foundations
that made me into the structure I am
pathetic
how little of a calendar space
one life inhabits
when measured by the travels of the Sun
other external devices
powered by wishful thinking and desires
The fabric is being woven for the kings out of this world
as the threads below blend into painfully visible non-existence
holding hands doesn’t help
love doesn’t help
waves are always on the run
as the ocean glitters anew for seemingly no other purpose
than the vanity of reinventing its surface