In unthinkable death how do you carry yourself?
An intimate dialogue with death
Fearless, undaunted. I admire your grit.
One thin blade, one silken noose
but you want to face the bullet straight in your heart.
The death should come instantly,
because you want to be witness,
your head falling with grace.
Why did you chase death whistling on the beach,
taunting the eccentric sky like muted revenge.
The grave will be too small for you
Your legs sticking out.
Lime burning your eyes.
Turning back, the grave diggers
may not like to face your moved earth!
