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time melts down in the death
obsession decays with death

death awakens me in the state of absolute tranquility,
tranquility not even bothered by the buzzing in my ears

I was thinking that death lives only in the heart of 
one who wanted to keep cherished memories 
but, alas; will diminish one day
like ripples carried by the water 

however, on some occasions, death throws its shadow  
becoming an uncontrollable passion, it bursts into flame 
and flows in the wilderness as a stream of molten rock;
then comes together to become a mound of ashes 
and scatters in the air blown by a gust to yield naught 
which may be the linkage to never perishing another life

so what do you have to do with meeting death, it’s nothing 
but the shadow of the moon that hanged on a limb of a tree; 
what about dialogue with death, 
it’s only a whisper you made to a star  

actually, death is the resignation of self with closing eyes 
in the dark that is darker than the darkest hour yonder horizon;
death is time ceased in an abysmal chasm where water
neither moves nor stands still but has petrified 
and become gentle waves in the sea 
over the edge of a mound of fossils 

still and all, 
when the dead one’s thoughts are floating on the quiet water 
it becomes a raging billow higher than a mountain and swallows the sea
an irresistible yearning for the departed occurs in the heart of the living one,

if death is the four seasons that alive walk stepping on the time of oblivion 
as the subsequence to a hatred, no one can torment death; no one can shake open death’s eyes

I wonder who said those clever things on death?

“how wonderful is death, …pale as yonder waning moon
with lips of lurid blue, ….”1
“sleep is lovely, death is better still, ….”2

as long as one is alive one can talk about death 
death most beautiful; death would be beautiful forever 


1. Shelley: Queen Mab  2. Quote from Heine
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