... and yet it's true!

They were not of this planet. Not even of this galaxy. Their home was a few million light years away from the furthest point of the universe. They were the reason for dinosaur wipe-out  It was not an asteroid. It was their spaceship. They had run out of gold. Their ship had been pulled into a worm hole the size of a peanut and the next thing they knew, earth was pulling them down. They escaped in an escape pod just as it entered the atmosphere and hurtled towards Mexico. That country has still not revived completely. The ship ran on nuclear energy of ladders. So when it crashed the nuclear explosion was so to say… elevated. Everything was gone. Well almost everything. Rodents are cunning creatures. They survived. They knew The Subway was always free of unnecessary heat and radiation.

Their home planet was mostly ice. They had evolved on ice and ice they needed to keep themselves alive. So they hung around the poles looking for gold and a way to escape. On their travels they realized what a big mess they had created. The dinosaurs were gone. The continents were breaking. So they decided to stay and make things right. The sky was full of smoke, ash and clouds of colors like shit. There was no light. So they accumulated these clouds and stacked them together. The sky was clear. And there was light.

A few of those shit colored clouds had scattered around in this endeavor. But that was permissible. They regrouped as much of them as they could and made them rain over a vast landmark that people later called Africa. It was big enough to allow a significant amount of space for what they called a desert. The scattered clouds made similar small deserts at the other places they had spread out to.

After clearing up the sky and making the deserts, they believed they deserved to have a proper place of operation for themselves, something like an office. They pulled in a few strings with the continents and assembled them in the certain way. Some of the bigger landmasses had to be broken away. This partition was more effective as well as practical. Boundaries were separated by water. Yet the dragons were heartbroken. They couldn't have their barbeque smokers anymore and flying across continents was expensive. Also there was this whole new concept of jet lag. Maybe that’s why they decided to commit mass harakiri. Only three of their eggs were left behind. Time turned them into stone. That’s how Daenerys Targaryen found them anyway. But that’s a completely different story. The continental drift, unlike Tokyo drift, lasted longer.  Of course it wasn't an easy job. They still tend to shift wayward even after eons of discipline. Though the pace is very slow. It was much like driving traffic on a jammed road. There was a lot of collision. Fortunately, by mistake, the Indo-Australian ran like a raging bull and rammed into the Eurasian plate. The land sandwiched between the two made the Himalayas. They had formed other home too. The Alps were one of them. But the excitement of a new home is hard to kill. Besides the Alps were ancient. So they waited for it to grow and gather ice.

Meanwhile the rodents and mammals had evolved significantly. They still felt sorry for the dinosaurs. It was fun watching the little raptors draw doorknobs on tree barks and try opening them. The Orange heads were reminded of their igloos back home. This gave them the idea. They set out to make humans. They set out to make them in their own image. They had no idea how much they would hate it later. It took a lot of work and a lot more Gold. But the time span it took the humans to learn what sarcasm meant was most excruciating. Even more than raptors making door knobs on tree barks and knocking on them. To some, sarcasm is still a foreign language.  

They tried telling people the truth about themselves and their stories the whole time, but something more important always cropped up. Alexander, Genghis khan, Hitler, the plague, the world cups and puppy love affairs are a few examples. The Sumerians were smart people. They made clay tablets about the Orange heads. Okay they were probably not that smart, but still. Who can tell if Steve Jobs actually lifted it up from there? The Vikings didn't find it hard to grasp the fact of another world. The rest of the world bi-polarized it into heaven and hell. It wasn't as precise as the Vikings had envisioned it but who was complaining. At least they were true to its heart. Heaven was a cool place which almost always appeared blue. Like ice. Hell was fire.

But the best were the Indians. Some of them at least. They came up with a theory that left even the Orange Heads baffled. ‘Everything is an illusion’. Now how can one argue with that? And then they grew Cannabis  One puff of hash and everything was actually an illusion. Even the Orange heads couldn’t deny that. They loved it so much that they became a kind of brand ambassadors for it. One of them once smoked so much in one day that his throat became blue. He sat on a mountain and didn’t get up for days. His friends, the other orange heads, tried to scare him up by putting a snake around his neck, but he still didn’t move. Finally when he got up he told them he had seen God. They understood that he was permanently high. It couldn’t be reversed.

The rest, as they said was history.

The massive use of gold had led to the scarcity of the mineral. Hence it became precious. Everyone wanted them. It became hard for the Orange heads to accumulate it. Life was hard. Hash was banned. They began spreading out into the human world, living human lives. That’s when they started hating it. The humans were still struggling with their shaggy dog stories. Yet the one thing they probably loved as well as hated about the human race was their inability to understand and appreciate a good joke.

http://evilbay.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/IMG_1483-768x1024.jpg

                                                                                                     -- kafir.

The Ninth Child.

Uttarakhand floods: 10,000 dead? Congress squabbles over body count.

http://www.dnaindia.com/india/1854945/report-uttarakhand-floods-10000-dead-congress-squabbles-over-body-count

The Uttarakhand Congress is playing politics over the bodies of flood victims in the state.

While Uttarakhand chief minister Vijay Bahuguna has been insisting that the official death toll is under 600 and has also asserted that the precise figure would be known only after the debris is removed, state assembly speaker Govind Singh Kunjwal on Saturday said that more than 10,000 people could have perished in the floods.

Bitter political fight over Bodh Gaya blasts

The serial blasts in Bodh Gaya led to a political slugfest between the Congress and the BJP on Monday (July 8 with Digvijay Singh targeting Narendra Modi, saying the incident happened a day after he asked BJP workers to teach a lesson to Nitish Kumar. 

"Aren't they suggesting a Muslim involvement without full investigation? Flip side of this. Amit Shah promises a Grand Temple at Ayodhya. Modi addresses Bihar BJP workers and asks them to teach Nitish a lesson. Next day Bomb Blasts at Mahabodhi Temple at Bodhgaya. Is there a connect? I don't know. ALLOW NIA TO COMPLETE INVESTIGATION PLEASE !," Singh said in his tweets posted one after one in the same order.

http://www.timesnow.tv/Bitter-political-fight-over-Bodh-Gaya-blasts/articleshow/4431638.cms

Revenge of nature one calls it. The other wrath of God. Army calls it work. The politicians point their fingers at each other. The 'God fearing' fold their hands for priests. The priests point their fingers up at the sky. The environmentalist points his finger at the industrialist. the industrialist shrugs. The anarchist stifles a laugh. The existentialist sighs. The Protesters are ready with their flags. But the rest, the victims are already dead. We sit in our homes watching it on TV. Deciding what we should call it.

The Hindu epic, Mahabharata tells that the Vasus, cursed by Vashishta had requested Ganga to be their mother. Ganga incarnated and became the wife of King Santanu on condition that at no stage shall he question her actions, or she would leave him. As seven Vasus were born as their children, one after the other, Ganga drowned them in her own waters, freeing them from their punishment and the king made no opposition. Only when the eighth was born did the king finally oppose his wife, who therefore left him. So the eighth son, Dyaus incarnated, remained alive, imprisoned in mortal form, and later became known in his mortal incarnation as Bhishma (Devavrata), who is one of the most respected characters of the Mahābhārata.

The Ninth Child.

The goddess drowned her seven children

Delivering them from birth and death.

A thousand died few days ago

Still fighting for one breath.

Rain poured hard as clouds burst open

The wild wind razed all new and old

The river still swelled, and surged, and swept

Everything that man can hold.

A small boy lost, a child of ten,

Clung unto some rocks of sand

Pale and wet and cold and scared

With no one out to lend a hand.

The current yet strong pulled on his legs

His hands still weak held on to life

The rain like arrows, weighed him down

And wind cut him with thousand knives.

His family lost, his hopes diminishing

He cried out for his mother’s voice

She had said God punishes sinners, that

All was just in heaven’s eyes.

And this land was heaven, God’s abode

And God knows best, he knew.

Yet water rose and rocks fell loose

As death painted it all anew.

Thus, a child of Goddess ages later

Struggled and was ‘cured of sin’.

The very same river claimed his soul

That drenched the ashes of his kin.

They said one dip in holy water

Delivers one from birth and death

That boy must have just loved to live

For many a bubble rose up for breath. 

                                                             -- kafir.

After The Fall

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the king's horses and all the king's men
Couldn't put Humpty together again...

It was on the eve of December 6, 2006 that I had tried to kill myself. The sins I had committed were far too heavy for any shoulder to carry. The pain I had caused was way too much to compensate. Killing myself was the easiest way I could find to end this all. Perhaps there was a heaven. Maybe a hell even. I was sure to find hell. They say the pain inflicted in hell is never ending. There are four suns shining continuously, and the heat melts us. Literally. It doesn’t end. It never ends. We just go on melting and melting. We are thirsty but there is no water. We are hungry but there is no food. We are tired but there’s no shade. We are lonely… and there’s no friend… that’s what hell was. But I knew I deserved worse. Even hell with all its agony could not match the magnitude for my chastisement. Each and every minute I was spending on this land was a shame to God and his billion followers. To my late family. To my late sister…. Every passing second was a reminder of the pain. I wanted her to know that she was the most beautiful soul in this world. That she was my little princess. That I would give her all possible happiness in this world! But the only thing I could ever acquaint her to was pain. And the greatest gift I could ever give her was death. I knew could have saved them. But I didn’t. When I pulled out their dead bodies from the rubble and debris, I knew this was my entire fault. That was where I had decided to kill myself. I was devastated. My soul lay in pieces, torn and tattered from the same blow I had caused this world. I was not fit to live on this planet. Not after realizing the magnitude of my act. Hell was one place I was ready to welcome. But I wasn’t sure if Hell was ready to welcome me.

That’s how much I hated myself.

 

 

“Excuse me…? Could you please take a picture of us…?” a man said coming up to me with a camera.

I looked at him and then at his family. His wife along with her beautiful daughter stood on the shoreline facing me. I say she was beautiful because even at such a moment, her smile cut a curve across my face. Perhaps that’s what beauty is…. Anyway, I took the camera and clicked the photograph.

“Thank you!” the man said taking back his camera. The girl too turned and smiled a sweet goodbye before disappearing in the crowd.

One good scored! I have also heard that all our good deeds and bad deeds were accounted in the books of God. I wondered if this would make any difference. But every breath of air I took was a sin as well. I had to hurry up with my death.

 

As I walked along the beach I watched the sun set in a cadence of colours. It kept sinking lower and lower into the sky. But it was still pretty high up above the horizon. Enough for me to make it in time. I held my shoes in my hand and walked barefoot on the wet sand. Dying waves touched my feet and the ebb dragged back everything that was left of it. A beautiful evening to die it was and a beautiful way too. I only hoped they could have the same fate as me… why the hell did I have to be so damn lucky!

I hated myself even more.

I looked at the horizon once again. There was no one on the beach except me. People were tiny dots at a distance. I couldn’t save my family. No one could save me.

With calm placid steps, I started walking towards the sun. Into the deep blue sea, that welcomed me with the garland of its waves. Perhaps they were more like the hanging noose for the situation, yet no less than garland for me. That was my answer for redemption. That was my answer to death.

I kept walking deeper and deeper. The water rose to my knees, to my chest, to my neck and finally it was over my head. Adrenalin rushed through my blood but I had no space for fear. Instinctively I took in a gulp of air as my head went in and soon ran out of it. The burning sensation in my lungs was growing in geometric proportions. Soon I was all out and in madness I started flinging my arms around. I knew I wasn’t supposed to do that. I was supposed to die as peacefully as possible. But I couldn’t help it. It was my stupid reflexes that were controlling my mind now. Nothing else. But the damage had been done. The water was way up over my head by now. There was no chance that I could have made it to the top. My senses had started growing weak. My efforts were heartless. I was dying…

For one last time I looked up and saw the beautiful colors of the sunset glimmer through the water. It was the most amazing thing one could see at the dying moments… and then darkness followed.

And then… I woke up in heaven!

 

Yes! I’m not joking! I was pretty sure it was heaven. There was God and there were Fakirs… lots of them. And there was a distinct smell of roses. Who else could it be with but Allah… the Great almighty! But I was still confused. What was I doing in Heaven? How did I end up here? Was hell overloaded? Hell it was! Why else would they throw me out? But perhaps it was a mistake… because moments later, I passed out.

 

It definitely was a mistake. The next time I opened my eyes, I knew I was right. A long queue of beggars stood ahead of me. Most of them were lepers and all of them wore a pitiable look on their faces. This was hell. Their helplessness was the proof of it. Drops of their skin peeled off from their body and slid down unto the parched earth. All of them were crying for relief from this inferno of molten pain. I looked up to check if there were really four suns as they said. Sure enough there were. But one thing still puzzled me. Why was I feeling good? A warm tingling sensation embraced me. I was comfortable lying out here in the open. But something was off key. I was  enjoying this. The fire of hell is not meant to be enjoyed. I started feeling drowsy again. And before I could understand anything out again!

 

“Oh! So you are finally alive!” that old man laughed with pleasure and relief.

“Alive…?” I mumbled, confused, “I don’t understand…”  

“Understand…? What’s there to understand here…? Allah is merciful. He spared you your life!”

“How is that possible? I drowned myself! I am dead!”

“No my son, you aren’t dead… you are as much alive as everyone here!”

“But I’m sure I was dead!” I whimpered, “I woke up in heaven… but it was a mistake… so I woke up in hell again… how can I be alive…?”

“I don’t know about where all you’ve been. But this certainly is the third time you’ve woken up.” The old man answered looking intently at him. “The first time you woke up when I had taken you to my Namaz at the Dargah. I guess the roses had brought you to senses. The second time you woke while I was busy giving food to the beggars. And now the third time…”

“Oh no… this can’t be happening to me..  This is so not possible…” I sank back down into darkness. 

 

This might appear weird. But I got to know the weirder stuff when I got up and asked him more about myself. I had drowned myself at chowpatty and he had found me at Haji Ali Dargah. A strange tide had brought my body to the dargah. And he pulled me up. But that was not all…

 He knew I would come.

 

I wanted to run away from him after I heard that. But I was weak and hungry. And yet a hell lot more scared. So much that I could’ve died out of fear. Still death was one thing I had totally lost my faith upon. I wanted to look up and yell at the stars that had set up such fate for me. I did. After a few hours of my resurrection I went out under the open sky. The stars were in their full blaze.

‘What the hell is this?” I yelled. “This isn’t fair! Why can’t you just let me die! Is it that tough?! What is this? Big boss!?? Whenever you feel like you take me in… whenever you feel like you kick me out! I’m not your personal entertainer! I’m not up for whatever you are doing! I despise you god… and I hate myself. So please let’s make up and help me end this… I can’t take anymore… can’t take anymore…”

With tears in my eyes I waited for a bolt of lightning to strike me. but nothing happened. I guess I had overacted.

 

I guess the old man must have heard me scream at those dark domes of heaven. His light touch on my shoulder made me turn around to meet his puzzled yet compassionate gaze.

“Not that it matters much…” he spoke hesitantly, “but who are you…? And what ails you so much?”

The idea of inventing another truth occurred to me. But I knew it wasn’t going to work. Every invented truth starts out as a lie, only somewhere in the process we fool ourselves into believing it as truth. Also, it points to the absolute in its attempt to hide it. Just like religion.

I hung my head in the answered in the same miserable voice that has echoed throughout creation since the first rebellion.

“I am… just another Adam. And I’m falling…”

   

 

                                                                                                                                  --- kafir.

One Step From Love. (an excerpt).

She insisted on walking the whole way back to the beach but I was worried for her. If I was tired by now, she had to be exhausted as well. I decided to hire a taxi since we had had enough of foot walks by now. Soon enough we reached our destination. The place was throbbing alive with people. Everyone seemed to have come out of their houses to enjoy the sunset over the sea. Children played on the beach as their parents watched them contended to find them happy. Some people even took dips in the sea water and played over the waves mad in the moment.

Evening had approached. Sun had begun its descent in the sky. We sat there on the sand huddled close to each other. Watching people do their thing. Everyone around us seemed so happy. And happy was I to be sitting beside the person I had come to love. But every coin has two sides to it. Though as much as I wanted this day to be endless, I knew we had nothing more than a few more hours left to us. Whatever would happen after that was inevitable. It was all probably written down somewhere in the book of the gods. A story of mine and hers’ lost among sheets and sheets of time. I wish I could know what was to happen to us. But that didn’t matter anyway… it was pretty obvious. We would head back to Bandra by nightfall. Take a stroll down the Juhu beach. Reach the station. Say goodbye. Finish. What more was to be expected? What more could have happened? Nothing.

“I wish I were some superhero kind of guy…  I wish I could stop this moment just as it is…” I said looking at her as a gust of wind ruffled through her hair.

She remained silent for a moment and then suddenly pointing in the distance said,

“Do you see that sand castle?”

I spotted a wrecked sandcastle a few meters away. “Yes…” I said, “But it’s broken… or incomplete… whatever… but it’s not a sandcastle exactly.”

“Come, we will rebuild it…!” she said getting up and running towards it. I followed her as she sat on the sand and started work. First I was uninterested but her zeal and enthusiasm drove me deep into it. We built the castle, but every time, either one of its walls would fall down or something else would happen. It was a lot of hard work to bring sea water and put it in a small depression. We had dug it out especially for water storage. But still it was a lot of fun working alongside her. Our dirty hands would brush against each other. Our glances would reach up to meet from time to time.

At one juncture she got so engrossed that I just left everything and looked deeply unto her face. Feeling her interest, acknowledging her movements. After a while she noticed I wasn’t working and looked up at me. I shifted my gaze instantly and started working again. But then i felt it too. The sensation. The prick you feel when someone is staring at you. Maybe she was looking at me… I looked up and found she was! Just as I looked up she removed her eyes as if guilty of some theft, caught in a shameful act. A faint smile lit my face which clearly shone on her as well. I, once again, playfully this time, picked up my eyes and a moment later she picked up hers as well. This time she spoke up,

“What are you doing?”

“Whatever you are doing…” I said reflecting the question back at her.

“I caught you first!” she said pretending to get annoyed.

“Oh yeah?” I said, “You are such a liar!”

“I’m not a liar! You are!” she hollered and threw a handful of sand on me!

I was shocked for the moment. “Watch now...” I said and bombarded her with fistfuls of sand. She hit me and I hit her. Soon enough we were practically rolling in the sand. but the moments caught on to us. We became aware of strange looks we were getting from people on the beach. I even heard one of them say, ‘it seems this guy never saw a beach before! Look at his antics!’ but it didn’t bother us anyway. We didn’t care what people said. All that mattered to me for the moment was the girl. And I cared for nothing more than keeping her happy. That’s what love is, isn’t it? Keeping your counterpart happy… 

After a lot of fighting in the sand, and even more of cleaning up, we again got back to the castle and completed it finally. We placed a boy and a girl made out of sand in the courtyard. Each one of them representing us. After we had finished, we took a few steps back to marvel at our creation. She turned to me and softly said,

“Look, mr. superhero guy, we stopped time…”

I looked at the sand castle. Definitely we had stopped time. There stood a replica of hers and mine looking out to the infinity of sea. What lay beyond, none of us knew. But for the moment we had left a portion of ourselves in those figurines of sand. We had ‘made’ a memory. But that wasn’t permanent as well. A big wave had to come sometime and wash it all away. It wasn’t only with the sand. Had we placed ourselves on a stone even, the same would have happened. Only it would have taken a little longer and would have been much more painful. This sand represented us beautifully, because it couldn’t hold on for long… neither could we. The tide of time had to wash away both of us. Leaving only fragments behind. The fragments called memory.

I smiled at her and held her close to me. It was the first time I had touched her and it already felt as if she was a part me. She snuggled her face on my chest and said,

“I wondered why girls were generally shorter in height than boys… I guess I know now. I can hear your heartbeat…”

“Then you probably might know what it says…” I said almost whispering.

“It speaks of unexplained things. Impossible things. It wants us to break all rules of this world.” she looked up and said, “It wants us to live again…”

I gave her a gentle squeeze and held on. We stayed like this for a very long time, watching the sun go down in the sky. Gentle waves of the sea washed up on our bare feet leaving a tingling cold sensation behind. I looked up and found whiffs of clouds colored in various tints of the sunset. All of them moved towards the far reaching horizon. They seemed to be laughing at me. Laughing at my helplessness. They had found their eternal companions in rain and wind and sky and lightening. I had found one too; only eternity had shrunk itself into hours in my case. Yet it was eternity for me. Though by the end of this day I was going to lose her, but a part of her soul was always mine. She couldn’t be separated from me now. We were one.

I looked up at the passing clouds and told them with defiance in my eyes, ‘I had found my rain, wind, fire sky, earth, matter, thoughts, soul, god, everything.’

‘I had found myself.’

*end of chapter 10. 

                                                                                                                                                                                                          -- kafir.

Of Stars and Dying Souls.

I have looked up at the stars with longing in my eyes. Even with envy at times… wishing I could possess that glow in my heart… that infinity in my reach… For what does a restless mind crave but recognition. And what does a dying soul need but peace. That blazing light in the heart…

The glimmering hope of darkest sky

O’ stars I wish I still could fly…

Like I soared in my childhood dreams,

Like I will the day I die…

I have a dying soul, yes. It’s stricken down with tardiness, contempt and callousness. It always has been. Common human stuff… can’t help it. It regrets the day I was born. I have often heard myself mutter out loud for no apparent reason --- “Not Again, DARN IT!”

I believe (though suspicious) it could be the voice of my soul. After all who would be happy getting fried over and over again? (APART from the brainwashed chicken souls of KFC who believe their only ambition in cosmos is to burn in animal fat. Yes, it’s gross. And God of course, who keeps getting grilled in the fire of logic. “Oh no! Not again, DARN IT!” Could be his pet phrase too… (But that is, if they both exist.))

   

Just to be clear, I’m not subscribing to any belief systems here. Those eternally doomed chicken souls should deal with their problems themselves. My dying soul’s repetitive “not again…” is a mere reflection of deep inflicted desires about finding peace through change. I’m a revolutionist after all! We all are! We all want change according to our own perspectives. Some tend to be for personal benefits, most for common good. Yes, it's true. I speak from experience. A little introspection will prove it you. Man is, after all, a social animal.

 But then comes the downfall. All our noble ideas go through self rejection, eyebrow arches, hesitation, subjugation, repeated tramping and treading and finally vanish into oblivion. What survives, is the world we know of and see as today. No wonder it is dying too. So am I. So are you. And so is our collective soul.

But don’t get me wrong. I’m not the physician here, nor am I the way seeker. (Yet). I neither have the medicines nor the prescriptions. I’m merely the death news bringer.

Yet I choose to bring the message of hope.

There has been enough digression in the name of religion and tomorrow. Every thinking man must make his own religion. Be the God of him. We must give our ideas a better dimension to take form in.  Shake off this delusion that we are sheep! We are spirits, divine and free. Nothing can hold us down. Ever.

I've never doubted that one man can change the world. Indeed it is the only thing that has!

These human bonds restrain my wings,

Though silent, stifled --- my spirit sings…

A song of hope, a song of fire

A song that burns on reins of sin.

And as these flames take heights anew

My imprisoned dreams can reach out too…

The sickness burns and burns the pain;

The world seems better, so does the view.

I look up at those stars with a longing in my eyes. Wondering what they might think of us mere mortals. They must look down to find the lawlessness of the universe, our ignorance… and start to wonder how the chaos in our lives passes on as just fine.

They won’t be very wrong…

But I’ve been thinking about the meaning of revolution. The beacon of change. Maybe it is a hope beyond me, but I find peace in my dying soul. A force which seems to strengthen it.

And the idea alone pushes me towards that light in my heart …and infinity in my reach.

    I know not much if Gods could care,

And make us what we are --- divine.

But I have looked up to see those stars…

And oh! How wonderfully they shine…  

Hinc Illac Lacrimae

There are moments of fun, moments of joy, moments of laughter, moments to cry... and then there are moments when we are supposed to tell ourselves that no more we are entitled to them. That we never owned those very valuable seconds we thought belonged to us and were to stay with us forever.  That everything would be lost with that one person away from our sight... 

Those are the moments that hurt the most and leave behind scars. Scars which herald the beginning of a new story while still cherishing the memories of old.  

This poem is the upshot of a scar, though minor, cut through 6 years ago, April 2006. It was written for a friend, a good one, as we parted our ways. This was a parting gift, for I had neither money nor a good bye card... just words... and that's all I could give...

He fares well today. Though our talks gradually declined with time. But I can tell. Whenever he must read these words, he must remember our days, and those great times we had at Oak Grove.

The fragrance of childhood haunts all... hence those tears.

Hinc Illac Lacrimae...

Today, with all my love I write

A poem to you, my friend!

 My heart lies shattered in million pieces,

… Far impossible to mend…

They say words always find their place…

But now they sulk and drown.

Why does happiness so often

Instead of smiling, frowns?

Oh! Such a good friend you were,

And such good times we had.

I shared my thoughts, my dreams with you

And memories ---now leave me sad. 

But since the time has come to part,

We part our solemn ways…

Where I’ll be lost in darkened hues,

And you’ll have your cruel days…

Don’t mind these watery eyes of mine…

For ominous they may seem;

O friend, I cry to lessen this weight

Your absence now redeems…

Hence these tears,

Hence these tears…