youth

Thatched huts, buildings of wood and mud
A world with no electricity, no light but
the light of day, a world of an age long gone.
This was my world, a world that is no longer
here, a world which everyone else has left behind,
and yet it does not fade, but grow even stronger
in my memory, its whispers do not leave my mind;
and a forlorn nostalgia gently beckons me...

I remember that day in the vast forest,
broken branches, a lush green, no sound
but the sound of my heart, no warmth
but that through the leaves which found
some solace upon my face.
In that forest I quietly wept,
alone, lost, hopeless with no trace,
of anyone, of anything or anywhere,
and found myself steadily aware
of my petty life and Death's loving stare.

It was that gentle greenery,
those cool places of shade,
I found poetry in those flickering forms,
truth in my life's transience.
And I kept on walking, and then I ran
without knowing where, without knowing why
until I saw the sun back in the sky,
and I thought that I had found
some brave new world, some world not mine,
there was a small golden shrine.

And there stood a man with no eyes,
a man with no face but that of Death,
and he softly spoke to my childish face:
Welcome friend, to this little temple,
this little paradise, this home of God.
God rests here, he has been here since
the begining of this universe, and I have
spent my whole life protecting him, so
please tread with the utmost care.

So he said without parting his lips,
that's what it seemed like to me then.
Thus I walked on, into the shrine,
eager to see this God, this being
who had guided me here. Why did he
call me here? What had he to say to me?
Shaking with curiosity, I stumbled
into the empty room, but there was no God.
Just a little paper doll, just a small
cup, half filled where I could see
my disapointed, confused, lost face,
my cruel childish innocence.

Terrified, I ran out, tears streaming,
not even thanking that lone sentinel
who guarded all that was divine, who
was left to watch over that whole world,
and eventually I found myself banished
into this cramped little place, an island;
this era of mechanical delusion where all
I can do is remember those days of my youth
spent in blissful joy, in beautiful misery,
where I cried for my death, and laughed for life,
that long-gone world where God first talked to me.