Leaving Early


When the bell is rung
to usher the harvest of drums
I hope to leave with full vigour
as a fox in full flight
guided by the full moon
with my hair shining bright
and my veins yet strained.

Let this journey be worthy
of that 100 meter race
where athletes fight against time
with heels humping,
sweat dripping
and arm swinging.
The elixir of youth.

Different from that,
where the drumbeats dissolves
like paused heartbeats
and where life is a conundrum
strung out of the grey hair of those
scared of leaving soon.

For special is the early comers
the conquerors of the Grim Reaper,
never shall they be held frail
as prisoners in his sandy mansion.

But by baiting the ticking clock
they’ll ready their chariots
and shoot their bodies
towards the path of the titans
those shining stars in the sky
whose glow demystifies death.

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