Like the terminal light from a star
that has un-produced itself long, long ago.
His light shall meet the ignorant eyes of the earthlings
when thousand years have gone thousand times.
Earth shall still be sailing in circles on its way to endlessness
Through dimmed lights of un-producing stars
We share our destiny with stars and planets
To be produced and to un-produce
To produce and to be un-produced
The minute we start living
we also start coming closer to the end.
Away from the beginning and towards
a new beginning.
As bright as we were in the beginning
as dark we will be in the end.
When the giant light swallows everything but itself
Only he, who can melt his heartbeat in the present
and its dark dreams in golden silence
Shall be free from the heavy burden of bodily pain and pure sadness
Only he who can watch the nature's time glass
and see that his endlessness is just a sand corn,
on its way down,
shall meet his dupe
His mouth shall be silenced one day
But the poems he has said aloud shall keep alive
The planets, the stars, the endlessness,
The scent of the strawberry sunsets
Listen to his words,
The poet in the grave
The Eager Poet!
Listen to him, learn from his wasted life
His pain is not less real
because his heart no longer beats.
It was to him more than an eye or two.
A shadow behind his hangover,
underneath shallow happiness,
that fed his longing for death.
Now it's you who is suffering just like him
Reach out and take his hand across times hunger
He'll lead you through blackest holes of the universe
Where no light could ever escape
Here between stardust and unborn planets
Where light of the un-produced stars gather by your feet
Time stands still while your hearts try to hammer
the sight that is more than a dream.
