Classic Poem

Death stands at a distance
all day all night, smiling, unblinking,
like that picture under the staircase.

Are you waiting for the last bus?
Do you know, the sands are slowly
rolling through the gaps of your fingers?

Tighten your fist. You are enlightened to
pick one – the coffin or a life of action.
From one birth to another, augment the civilization.

Does your laugh tear your shrunken lips?
Open your wardrobe, cover the breast of the poor,
apply on your lips the balm of a millennium’s rebellion.

Who says death is the only truth?
See, your body of fog is still seated on the throne.
You still shine in the firmament of stars.