Friday, May 3, 2013



We each remember well the final words
Between us and the ones, whom we had loved.
And when we pass the spot, where we had last
A chance to speak to them or hear them speak –
Or otherwise recall that tender past,
Then some of us may wish that we had paid
Attention more – or uttered kinder words.

Alas!  The ones departed won't return.
There isn't any way to rectify
The things we said or did – or to complete
Whatever still was left to do or say.
And so we sigh and ponder this defeat,
As all that's left of those, whom we had loved,
Are memories – and ashes in an urn.

So many things, on which we daily err,
That seem to matter not –  but then the day
Arrives, when seeming trifles may decide
Between a life that stays or vanishes.
Our errors small, we fix – but that divide,
By which we stand, so broad and deep and dark,
Cannot be bridged – except by Lucifer.

And so we're left with infinite regret,
The only consolation being this –
We're powerless and tiny, like the dust,
By tempest lifted, blown and scattered far –
And all our thought and labor, love and lust
Appear as pointless as this universe
That spins in grandeur – till its end is met.

Arjun Janah < >
2013 May 2nd, Thu., 8:15 pm.
Brooklyn, New York


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