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Friday, September 19, 2008

A Homecoming Trilogy [2]


Like a preaching false prophet
Talking God out of all recognition,
Childhood streets seem to testify
That there was no you and I -

No stone, no leaf, no tree,
No season has been left unchanged,
Even the days seem not to remain
In the light to shine the same,

Or like a child we killed
But did not know its name,
We held a hope of immortality
The future couldn't reclaim -


When our eyes are blinded easily
In such haunted moments to see,
It's too hard to remember or feel
Whether anything was ever real,

Or how far time has defiled us
And all the promises we made:
To make love ageless as the sun,
While we waited for night to come

To make love in a beautiful song,
Where every verse left us undone,
Brightening like sudden gleams,
We came and went like dreams

Beside lakes that bloomed,
Your fingers digging at soil, too,
In a flood leaving nothing,
As I dug for the divine in you -


Now touches are only attempts
To nurture the faith of yesterday,
They need a little bit more
Than they ever used to before,

But hearts are lost in the belief
That love will not be outdone,
For even though our day is done
And the seasons seem to have won,

On streets where our boy might roam,
With a pain almost like joy I realise,
Looking back in coming home,
I still want a son with your eyes.

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