The Good Intending Evildoer

It is the most impossible

of earthly choices -

the final blow that tips one over

to the deepest dark of the  abyss.

The only debts alas

we aren’t supposed to pay back

is to go back

and to repay our sins into the past.

The past - the place where

only shadows now reside 

and where all the roads are always

paved with our good intents.

And even if we could

(somehow) go back -  

the meager past is obdurate;

a turtle’s shell protecting gentle-fleshed, unhampered future.  

So, I go back –

where only I am now allowed –

into my dreams of the another life –

the past.

An then I meet – again,

and then again,

and then again –  

the same – the omnipresent Stranger.

And then again as in a loop –

I hear these illustrious words -

“…there’s always price to pay

for what we want the most”

Then pushes me once more,

with smile. And then gain I’m flaying

down  into the abyss. Until tomorrow.

Pompeii

The crimson lava’s kissing

crimson, heavy burning sky;

A violent smoke is dancing

where their burning lips are harshly touching.

The earth is trembling,

Vesuvius erupting,

the world entire – burnt,

exploding and in pain.

With bodies limp,

inhaling fire -

survivors few - unable now

to even scream.

The end now near,

as God decided,

all sinners,

saints - about to die.

One final blow –

the city’s under,

a blanket’s moving –

one motley lava, fire, smoke.

Above it all

sad, lonely face is watching;

God’s tear suddenly

appears in His eye.

“Their final destination

is well worthy.”  “Perpetual reminder

of My greatness…and My wrath”

The Old Man And The Sea (To M.I.D.)

The old man’s sitting

in an ancient chair,

looking in the sea

that never rests.

His eyes are pale

and hardly moving,

they’ve seen some glory days, 

calamities in an excess.

A cup of steaming tea

to keep his fingers heated,

into mutilated of arthritis

shaky hands.

The sea is talking to him,

telling him primordial stories,

the old man learned as a boy

the language of the sea.

“Your time has come

my friend”,

with gentle murmur

the sea’s conversing with the man.

“In the beginning all was sea you know,”

it tells him,

“and in the end all things

a sea will be once more”.

The old man’s smiling,

knowingly, he is ready,

another day - a gift,

another conversation with the sea.

He knows -

the sea had turned into fish,

the fish became a man,

the man will turn into a sea

and will complete another cycle 

Unfortunately

I wish I could go back

in time and simply say “ I'm sorry” –

undo the things

regrettably I've done.

Not the big or the important ones –

that’d be unholy,

the simple ones

that would have changed entire worlds.  

But I can not

and that’s so cruel and so unfair

that we could not go back in time,

undo mistakes.

As the Creator such desired –

for us to always look

inside our past

but never to go back…