Friday, February 17, 2012

Nirvana or Bust

A crow cries against the darkening sky--
My great-grandmother would know
What message it brings to me,
But my hours hum with lost meanings.
Fog trolls the neighborhood wanting me.
But I know I would become lost in its touch,
Trapped and consumed by its seductive dance.

I will lose my eyes and bend towards sleep
And sit by the shore of my thoughtless mind.
Nothingness.   Dreamless.   Emptiness.
Oblivion is my only prayer for myself tonight.

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