Poetry

Why do I always remember the time 
of departure? 
The parting maze of tears? 
I accept another day that will never be 
the same. 
I will carry the cadaver of sin, 
the crime of silence, amidst the dancing 
dunes. 
 
Who will go after the barbs of rays? 
Father, go slowly in the sea. 
I am closing the windows now, take 
care of the clock 
and potter’s wheel. 
The cruel age is harping on the new 
designs. 
 
My epilogue is short with love of 
death which does not go beyond you.