LIGHT-SHOW
he felt
quite levitated
as if he
was suddenly handed
mastery of the air
had the golden belt
of life (tenth Dan)
bestowed upon him
not that he
(with good reason)
cared much
for the world
since he had always
mistrusted his
fellow human beings
seen in them
the seeds of destruction
but now, on his ninety-fourth birthday,
(still potent lion, he considered,
born under the sign of Leo)
he imagined his death
as spectacular event,
final eruption
of all he had learnt and known,
everything of purpose and beauty
he had kept secret from the world
(for who would want to
share with such
servile, unappreciative, self-
serving rabble?)
all lightning, and rainbows,
appearing from
nowhere
stars, too,
pouring out of him
birthed in the great star-fields or
turned supernova
a lightshow to put
this sublunar world to
shame by comparison
or so he was thinking, fantasizing
as the future to
end all futures
came softly parachuting
guided by star fields
but not
ones of his imagining
and, yes, light-show on cue, indeed
well worth the comparison
flash brighter than any
Big Bang, at least
of mortal conception,
his eyes, unaverted, streaming
down his cheeks
and if this
narrative does continue, should
you wish to continue it
you can tell how hands
reached into that darkness
to find him and
comfort him
as if they were fathers
and indeed
he their child
perhaps, for that symmetry, we
always accorded to poetry
you can tell
how heavy as a shockwave
that thing remorse shook him
left him mumbling in
the ashes of
last realization
“it’s not
my fault
it’s not my fault!”
