Give me the feeling of being blessed
by the kiss of life
that makes a corpse come back to life .
I am in the throes of my final death ,
maybe a few more days of sunshine
to share with , on my green lawns .
When I close my eyes
and then open them again ,
I find the scenes hazy ,
blurred by the moisture on my own eyes.
Are those the footprints of God ,
or some crazy poet
who walked by this door
with the song of creation on his lips
sung with such abandon.
What I see is just a mirage ,
even though I am surrounded by the greens .
It doesn’t take a desert to bring out
the vast territory of blankness ; we carry , within .
Before oblivion , the flowers bloom ,
all over , in vivid colours
for the single last time.