In this funeral pyre,
Through the space between the logs
That I have been placed within,
I see the faces
Of people known to me.
Their faces made visible
In this dark new moon night,
By the fire’s light.
The fire that is glorious,
Whose flames have now reached
Quite a height.
My body is burning intensely,
Like would a fuel.
“Perhaps, trying even makes for unhappiness.Perhaps, all the din of my desiring has kept the bird from my shoulder. I have tried so long and so loud after happiness. I have looked so far and wide.
“I have always imagined that happiness is an island in the river. Perhaps, it is the river. I have thought happiness to be the name of an inn at the end of the road. Perhaps, it is the road. I have believed that happiness was tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. Perhaps, it is here. Perhaps, it is now. I have looked everywhere else.
The pain of Deciduous, with the winter setting in, was growing deep. This was its first winter since it stepped into adulthood. It had been shedding cherries, flowers, and leaves, here and there, all through its adolescence and in a way has been aware of their seasonal departure. This winter, however, it was losing them at a tremendous rate and volume, so it thought. It didn’t know what was wrong but was certain that something was. It had been nourishing its kin too well. It spread its roots into every possible inch of the rock and far into the soil to pull water and food for all its beloved. So much and more only to find them part this way.
Of late, I have been reading a few poems penned by some popular English Poets, and, it struck me today, that I must begin to share some of them, which I deeply connect with, here, for others. Today, I am sharing this poem titled “Next, Please” – By Philip Larkin.