Where have you gone, my Gods
Don’t hide behind stone idols
Come out of your temples
And speak to us.

We are not alive
Yet not so dead.
On the twilight regions
In a long queue
We await our turn for tickets.

I can’t see the face of others
Still I feel their presence
Milling around, above, below
And through me.
They carry many many suitcases,
All empty – their life’s endeavours.

I do not know
How many turned back
How many left
How many got their tickets.

Hand in the counter
I await an encounter
With the unknown.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: