For Nima, who reads to me.

The Blessed Soul

He read to me 

from the green apple

the generosity of a dying ant

He petted my hair

and gave me a drink

from the tears of fairies!

He shook my hand 

watered the broken vase in the corner yard

Remembered the dying fish in the black bowl too

Played me  music 

the blessed soul

One night while I was sleeping on the dying thread of eternity

That night behind the horizon of I see nothing,feel nothing and maybe the end is near

While I was trying to repeat"This shall pass too, this shall pass too" over and over again,,,

He sparkled like a star

now nothing is the same

He sang me a song

"He my son!"

                              p.k    Jan 27,2015