Suffering from the pain Of having almost everything, Which many others on This dark planet desire

You tell me you have Planned on taking your life. I could begin comforting you, Cruelly, by saying go right ahead,

All life carries within it The seed of death anyway, Which in this violent century often Bursts suddenly, a corolla of blood

From a stonewall or a field of mud. It is left for others, equally afflicted, To give labels: heroic, cowardly, Simple, brutal etc to such events.

I promise not to judge yours. But a good death demands A good life, which can be lived only In these changing, changeless days.

This is the infinity promised By all those true and false prophets: Early winter sun on the face, Ink, pen and paper for work

Few ripe apples in a wooden bowl, A glass of clear water, two cold hands Reaching across the table for you, So warm, teeming with cardinals That trill and trill, sending shivers Up my arms, into my meager heart!