The illness

The Song of the Covenant

People smoke their souls in the pale, smokless flame,
and they laugh in a carefree fashion.
But the poor, the crippled the blind and the lame
freez in wind that is fierce and lashing.

Over  featureless ranks of impersonal eyes
shallow dreams would arise and appear.
While the hospitals’ walls and all roofs in the sky
sink in somebody’s clean, crystal tears.

That's my time. I'm now near.
That's my quiet heart beat.
So I'm swiftly now starting my race.
Yellow eagle-owl, I can hear
your singing. We'll meet
very soon at your wonderful place.

Laugh and whisper resound
from abodes, crystal-clear.
And the Moon radiates its frail light.
Sinking up, rising down,
I will soon disappear
as a cat in the window of night.

Chequered  flag of pure flame
is so simply designed,
clean as currents of water  and free.
Look at me, what’s your name?
 I will give you the sign:
from now on you’re forever with me.

And the pupils delating, the soul quickly shrank.
Listless thoughts crept along in a train.
Time was rushing along as a whirligig, yanked
by one’s hand,full of might and insane.

In one flash
all your life has so simply swept past.
Your concerns disappeared in Lethe.
In one splash
the infinity opened, so vast.
No responses, no signals, no breathing.