nothing grows anymore
 in my barren adulthood
 except this new and lonely chill
 that  would surely and slowly still
 myself because it refuses to yield
 to my already less fiery sunset.


 
 you said you were afraid
 you might not satisfy
 my longing for truth.
 elusive as it is, the truth is
 i held the truth once
 when I was a child
 only that it fast slipped
 away from my fingers as I stepped
 bare-footed upon the sands of time.

 
 the twitters and flights of birds
 are really not nothing.
 they are everything. 
 life and death synthesized.
 and in my barren adulthood
 this happy-sad amalgam is indeed
 my singular fertile seedbed
 for my obsession nursed and realized:
 my death-wish to remain alive!


 
 that is why I will hasten to listen
 to the sweet lively bird tweet but
 will eventually go with its final flight
 the exodus that will outscream
 the cold silence of the tomb
 and to rush swiftly back home
 to the warm cuddle of the womb!