Autumn leaves of bygone days tumble to the ground
Leaflets turned from time erased nestle in a mound.
Winter fast approaches with her solemn, silent dirges,
Abstruse array of colors flood the sky as night emerges.
Like all things sure does descend the end,
All things that began, to re-begin, must rend.
A procession to the potter’s field, chorusing a requiem trudge
Whimsical gusts – like memory- winds, at sable cloaks do nudge.
Grim faces chiseled of stone, onwards, on shoulders borne a hearse
Soon to mount a bier their own, these men living a farce.
Their dirges own tolling unheard yet
March these men their futures unmet.
Amidst the gathering of condolence, in mask black a man, watching
As laments wet the air with grief of him that lay departing.
“Oh, melodies make of mourning today for ‘nother,’’ laughed he, grave
“Ages hence these elegies same you’ll listen from thy grave
For left he hasn’t but only returned
It’s we that stay counting to end.”
Touched by the wakening fingers of death, took up the call a hag,
“‘Tis true what says that man in black, his words of wisdom brag
For why deny in deliberate blindness what one thing’s sure to be?
Ain’t not birth destined from start to the guillotine- death’s decree?’’
Silence through the woods dark ran
As the man black, to sing began.
“All incessant elements walk untrampled one day to be bent,
Poems today wreathed for the lover, cruel and indifferent.
Joy and sorrow – twin empires – their rule shall rubble turn
Dry rakes of rills to taste their water once more soon must yearn.
Histories huge in volumes abound
Forgotten with old languages’ sound.
Rustling turn the pages of the calendar plump, untorn
Summer and spring and winter and autumn of antiqued years mourn.
Winds profuse with scents of glory picked from hither and thither
Along with wreck of empires great sunk through sand, do wither.
For him and her that sleep unwaked
This elegy, hear, for those time raked.
Neither the wheel of Time escapes – all likeliness of present,
Unknown in the face of ever transforming future’s sure Advent.
Then of this Earthly terrain what being could ever dream
To lay behind with no need for a dirge on his grave to beam?
So, though living wouldn’t it prudent be
To write this elegy for you and me?
Let the song of closing be the disclosing of truth
The acceptance that one day all must mount the hearse” he qouth.
Twixt the darkness dimmed, the bier down on soil kept
In moments last in memory stand, men mourning him that left.
In stillness moments uncounted gather
A chill sigh collective ascends to the ether.
The man masked one time final began his song of jape
“- but do you know that death itself it’s iron claws can’t ‘scape?
When old a soul in body new replace one forgotten dance,
Relentless, life afresh on Earth, gallows to death commands.
To death too death, so sing with me
For the day departing, this elegy.”
© 2019 Sahana Narendran