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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required For Old Star-Gazer Master Khayyam – a name like Shakespeare’s for “some” other giants – Part Two III Is there an answer to this gaping question Will that something which follows on behave Here at least we know death despises life What do you call that which you have Do you die too after what length of time What do you do while you wait for the end What space d’you occupy in our timespace Or does anti-self exist in a parallel dimension Not that these make worrisome questions Nice to know we don’t quite disappear Right out and that we go on despite reasons Or perhaps for nothing much after all Here we are caught in swirling whirlwinds Of petty time-pinching emergencies We give what we can of our might to those We care for reserving the best for ourselves Sooner or later the world would just peter out First the sun would give up its nuclear fissions Slowly fizzing down while its body bloats out Then the earth and planets would fry out Would you be still around or would we be too And when the solar system freaks out What will be the fate of your bodiless forms Or would you be hiding in some safe black hole IV What good would it do to know the final outcome If you are caught in a terrestrial fateful bind So do we all the ultimate spacial expanse become Locked into it all by no-backtracking time Does what matters to you be of no moment to us Do we need to be wily to hanker after heaven We’re either just alone or wholly naked forsaken Or fused in a mounting blinding swirling circus Some may call this the ultimate form of Oneness Some the Godhead that directs all our wills Some might prefer the wayward terror of ghosts Some just can’t bother one way or the other Some who suffer ill the womb of common unity Decide to come together only to wreak hell These harden without mercy for what they wreak They whose work you put down to devilry So where lies the good of your worry-dispelling verse Long have we lost the feeling for your example Yes at first yes repentance we experienced at parting Sorrow at what we might have wanted to curse But all that jitterbug’s gone past by now We know darnwell better now the dance No use bothering with what anxious selves see Over what will or will not after be There is just this enormous monstrous engine It throbs on seemingly without and within Who knows why or who deemed it must It simply rumbles on whether you think it just Myself when young did dwell so long Upon your sweet O deep forbidden verses Draughts in tankards quaffed I with song Dreams couched in nubile cascading tresses TAMUM SHUD June 16/18, 1996 © T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016, revised from: longhand notes (a binding of poems), 1999.
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