[Psalm of obsession]
Sleep with the remembrance of Death, and rise with the thought that you will not
live long. - Dwais El-Qarni
He huffs and puffs
impatiently,
anxious at seizing
a moment unknown
of mercy
He scavenges on me breath
in every nook
He fossicks after me soul
in every cranny - as
He pounds verily hard
on me footsteps and whilst
His nostrils unravel me
existence upon horizons dreary
[Time possesses nay reprieve]
His, ain't a pogue,
but a sledgehammer
trademarked of fatality.
Patience oughtn't be
His becoming, 'cause, either
He do or die ...
DEATH,
i've realized,
will have to do - for, if not,
none will be left to inject
mortality's folly upon me:
DEATH
rather
DIE
me.
He runs on a velocity
terrifying than the throbbing
of me heartbeat;
the pursuit
grows desperate every time.
He endorses that
i speculate of Him
a fore i taste Him.
lately,
D E A T H
stalks me shadow
as of a nocent marauder
devoid of mercy ...
irrespective!
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