All That I Owe

The sun is blazing torridly, And the wind piping drearily, I'm about to lose my mind, Because I'm running out of time. Battling with the winnowed tastes of the ages, One can see the dimness of my sealed eye and soul, I'm no longer fluent as a rill, that wanders silver-footed down a hill, Because I'm swept off the field of battle like a monsoon. I'm almost kicking the bucket with Idle hopes, like empty shadows, Maybe I'm going home for the last time, Looking pale and grave as a sculptured nun, But I wish to survive. The breathless hours like phantoms should disappear, These evanescent words shouldn't snap like a whip-lash, Because they are painted sharp as pang, Till death like sleep might steal on me. Until then, I'm giving the world the best of my poeticalness, That's all I owe.