LAST CYCLE © 2008
In an interview with the imaginary, the question was raised:
Is the shine of your celestial body supreme or merely leased?
The mind, restless, demands the finite time,
Or eternally yields to parallel journeys, in a rite?
It remains silent, by the window frames,
As a prisoner at the frontier, observing the alleys.
Attentive, it waits for the imminent escape,
Knowing that fate is lurking, ever present.
At the first opportunity, it will escape the trap,
After eating the cheese and the groundnut, without a border.
For even in silence, desire persists,
And the prisoner of the mind will one day, finally, resist.