Funeral morn

-

 


As the dark night dim

my soul ride in a wet 

celestial canoe.

sailing deeply on, 

awaiting the morn of my funeral.


I have leap a thousand times 

for the day of my demised 

which, reached sooner, 

as autumn wind.

deliberately piercing my nude skin


now it's dawn,


my lifeless creature lay still

in world most adore ornaments.

epithet that soar in a passer-by 

lazy consciousness wit, commune

"world of Fortune has he dwell,

mundane guest of mercy gain birth"


beyond,

a golden silhouette spoke.

"have the world prime 

yielding endless starts still holds you?"

morn of departure still lingers

how should it be this morn?

why would this brusque knave 

ameliorate me in my hope valley?

where would my  weeping senile lady 

weary hand holds


now soul journey began

where the paths leads is yet unknown

but my saint testament guide me on.


Ayeni Taiwo

©2022


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Photo credit: pexel

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