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Dust to Dust

3- March 05

‘For dust thou art’,

Said the man

Wearing a black suite

And a matching attitude.

Showing me no latitude

For my perspectives

Nor for my elective point of view;

Be it new or drawn from ancient belief.

I feel no grief at all.

I’m dead!

Or that’s what somebody said.

Yeah! They’ve been trying to convince me

To conform to the role of corpse.

Ice cold

And sold down the river Styx

Supposedly to mix

With spirits long departed;

To join that pointless quest

For immortality.

I see.

Its all a plot

To deprive me of my own reality.

But I refuse.

My Muse has told me about some other stuff,

Enough for me to realize

That my viewpoint’s not in my eyes.

Its my soul that’s whole.

It possibly goes on forever.

So.

Don’t tell me I’m dead

Unless you’ve read my lines

And you know what’s in my head.

When I’m dead,

I’ll let you know.