I wish to die whilst I might slumber;
Let Old Age smooth my path away;
With no accounts remaining proper;
No innocent worlds in disarray;
And should a peace exist in vision;
Which legends, myths and cults do sow;
I hope with my true love reunion;
Or wait if they be yet to follow.
And yet, should my account be tainted;
And legends, myths and cults beware;
A journey to a depth recanted;
With restlessness as common fare;
And there alone in spite and fury;
No love to balm and bound my geist;
I wish regret for a life unruly;
No eternal angst to be my price.
So knowing not when I may exit;
Nor having sight to know what truths;
I wish this life devoid of conflict;
Where Nature smiles as balance rules.
For what then life if then not sharing;
To not see death as sweet release;
We are not human if not caring,
A mild and worthy life is peace.
I miss you enough to be warm today, my salt- stained pillows would tell you the truth
But the walls around my heartstrings may be made of rocks
So that no one may enter the fortress, you made for me
The fortune you left for me, of your ambitions, your radiance
I drown in melancholy, once in a while, secretly
But I keep finding my way, just like you'd taught me
I keep writing in hopes that you may read, or answer
Maybe talk? Send something from the clouds somehow
I keep writing the same things, I look at the sky
I know you and I, now cross down different paths
Me of life, you of land that never lets you make it back
Land of- I'd give it up in a second to see you smile
I know, i know- I'm foolish, I realize
I lost you to the worst part of time
So when I close my eyes, I see your face
I feel your warmth, your joy, your grace
And I see the light that'd would lead me down
To the roads you said would lead me home
All my what-ifs down the same way, to you
Always towards you.
I know what I don't know, but, I don't know if,
what I do know, is enough. I don't know...
I guess I could ask Siri or Alexa.
Although, with my track record with women,
maybe I should just leave well enough alone.
Like they say, what you don't know, can't hurt you,
but, what you do know, can get you killed! Or worse!
________________________
These two pieces captures the soaring arrogance, profound pride, and fiery confidence that characterize some poets’ iconic style. Amrit Ghayal (the first quatrain) was legendary for his fierce, larger-than-life poetic persona, and this specific quatrain perfectly showcases the sheer power he attributed to the poet's pen. The second quatrain, a part of free translation, adds to what he said in the first.
_____________________
For nectar of life fend I can,
Vie with Death’s hands--- defend I can.
My song of life a life-giver,
I pen, make dead stones stand I can.
With fire of ink, life blend I can,
The decrees of Fate bend I can.
Though time erases empires vast,
The history’s lease end I can.
_______________________
Reflections | 25.09.2026| death, life, poet, song, Quatrain
Note: The first quatrain is a free translation of a Gujarati Piece by Amrit Ghayal as under:
Amrit thi hoth aentha kari shakuñ chuñ,
Mrityu na hath palmañ hetha kari shakuñ chuñ.
A mari shayari ae sanjivani che, Ghayal,
Shayar chuñ paliya ne betha kari shakuñ chuñ.
We live and love, then pass away.
Memories of us linger on
inside the hearts of those who stay.
We live and love, then pass away.
We leave behind our DNA
and to our heirs – a brand new dawn.
We live and love, then pass away.
Memories of us linger on
The sad foliage of farewell each year
makes Summer's glory fade away too soon-
and letting go acknowledges the fear
of losing those young verdant leaves of June.
So blessed are Summer scenes that last full term-
complete their fullness by the start of Fall.
But often nature fails to reconfirm
next season's entry includes one and all.
And yes, dear Mom, your Summer went too fast,
without a chance to complete Autumn's scene.
At fifty-five, that Summer was your last;
you left us on September-day fifteen.
I live each season with the thought of you
beneath the leaves of Fall and Winter snow.
But come September, realize it's true;
you rest in peace of your last Summer's glow.
I was never worth for living on this earth,
I was just a dust particle made to be thrown in the dirt.
I wonder why God would have made such an ugly face and broken Soul,
He must have thought, "Oh, that's the person everyone should ignore".
I genuinely don't know if I'll be alive till I'm 20,
Even if I am my soul would be already empty.
I Really wish I could die soon,I don't want to be a burden on anyone on this earth.
I never really got anyone who can love me,
It felt like an act everyone had to show me .
I hope i die with my thoughts of being happy for once in my lifetime, hoping they contain his little smile.
I don't want anything, I'm just trying to survive.
I live for the days,hoping I'll see his damn smile.
His voice is no longer in my ears, his face is like fading shadow haunting my memories.
Unfortunately I will forget his soul.
I will go back to my younger self again try to be happy in my empty void hole.
As far as I know, it depends on two things: first, Allah’s mercy and will; and second, what a person did — in word and deed — before his/her death.
Please, note that childhood is excluded from this concept, because, children (all young children, kids) are not held accountable. Because, kids die before reaching the age of puberty; they enter Paradise in peace.
Death is not the end!
There shall be "Parazach" life
Before Judgment Day
If I should die
Before the dawn, overcome
by a morbid scene. Rise up!
My soul – step to the Light!
And the brighter dream heart
Keeps. Caged men may be subjects
Of time, forced to obey and
Bend, but the spirit once freed minds
No such rules, will love where it
Wants~ or offend. So, laid down I may be – cleaned,
Drained and perfumed—beyond then, life’s hurtful
Rhetoric~ nevermore be gloomed.
I wondered if all these stars;
would ever fall to the ground;
walking away, wandering around;
painfully hoping for magic to be found;
my curiosity was blissfully piqued;
when I heard that melancholic sound;
pitter patter pitter patter;
my heart was served on a platter;
out for the mindless demons to devour;
the ones who roamed on droplets left to scatter;
I looked up and saw the sign;
the absence of light;
and the gray cloudy skies;
it was my cue to leave I thought;
my brain walked but body stopped;
oh, it falls so cool, so calm;
the bead of water on my palm;
my dark orbs match the floating mystery;
letting the tears out of misery;
I look at my torn sleeve;
wounds so deep, I never had seen;
my soul cries for the time lost;
regret finds it’s solace in anger;
it overflows in me and slips away;
the stars stayed in place and didn't fall down;
but my sorrows did;
down with the rain and into the ground.
-v.s
Un-certainty..' Events beyond Biblical..
Being prepared for you.' Fire
For for your desire, a black heat though.?
Coming from just where
( you do not know )
It is intense, with the energy; all the energy
Of lives you have sqandered, including the
Ones that collectivly you self-relinquished
Such will your future be.' The delivery in inevitable..The sender is satan, he in indentured to dispense you wages, this is
( the gift that keeps on giving ) guys..' or gals...? I does not really really ( matter! )
View it as 'gender-indifferent?' Though most malevolent he can't help it by the way ' he is typecast by choice..And i beleive he ( means well?) Well for himself
Anyway..' But he can't cut the mustard.'
his gambit is oompletely busted, a busy fool is he, gambling on hostage taking.'
Obstinate to the enth; hell, of all degrees.'
We cannot know for sure
How much time we have left
And there isn’t a cure
For the loved ones, bereft.
Death may sometimes arrive
Just the way you’d expect,
But for those who survive,
There’s a real disconnect
From the world that they knew
Where their loved one drew breath
To what they can’t get through,
Which is deal with a death.
It has always been so
And it always will be.
When the time comes to go,
There’s no bargain or plea
That can change the harsh fact
Of a person’s demise
Nor step in to distract
From what hope now denies.
The final threshold.
Death gives a sign,
uncertainty and unanswered questions.
A strong and sturdy bridge,
that many have walked across.
Listening in the emptiness,
a harp without strings.
Emotionally imperfect.
Words fail,
thoughts and feelings dominate the room.
~ without need for description
You have struggled for so long.
Accepting does not refer giving up.
The thing I never said
meant nothing,
Words cannot change the course of life.
A night without a facade,
reflecting your truth and sagacity.
You do not need to prepare.
Follow the light in soothing peace,
with unconditional acceptance.
My Soul is Tired
Sometimes the darkness can swallow you whole to where there's no end in sight. The soul struggles and fights praying to be guided to what's right, but the darkness over comes and the soul becomes numb to all the pain and suffering you've witnessed throughout your life. Your soul reads like a novel every page engraved of your struggles. You often re-read those pages to make sense of it all praying the ending will bring fire to your soul. The pain, the suffering, the good and bad had penetrated your soul by all you've had. Your soul can only observe so much suffering before tiredness sets in and there is no light only darkness within. The soul must sleep and write the end of the novel of your life from beginning to end.
The last shavings.
Wood from his guitar.
And whatever else was in his treasure trove.
He used to be selfless.
He said that was trite as a favorite pit stop.
That stop sign is gone, now what?
Crushed up his favorite guitar.
His skateboard too.
Huh.
Right after the tombstone went up.
The crowd left.
Hmm.
When you get buried, they write stuff down.
Like good stuff.
He wasn’t sure he liked words.
Did he just play guitar and skateboard?
That stuff got splattered anyway.
The eulogies were trite as a guy spitting on the ground.
His best friend called him a rebel.
Maybe in death or life, but it left a prickly feeling in the ground.
Temptation.
The crowd left.
So he couldn’t play his ghost guitar after all.
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