New York Panorama

Life in Bangalore through the eyes of an Englishman -  

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Waking Dream

I held at the exit to the end,
after all those years of non-violence.
The weapon hot beyond its limit,
my body damaged beyond repair.

The air-lock behind me finally blew,
and I was thrown out into the vacuum,
along with the bandsmen and waiters
who had sheltered there.

No chance of survival, no air at first,
too much as I moved toward the planet.
Doomed to suffocate or burn up,
somehow I fell to Earth.

She was there - a surreal echo.
Was this the bizarre reality of death?
I thought of how we made love, reflected
in the walls of infinite mirrors.

So long ago, how could this be?
She looked at my shattered body,
calmly, as if it happened every day,
urging my dumb lips to quiet.
Then came the small craft of the enemy,
cutting her fragile humanity down.
From pain and love came infinite rage,
I broke my oath and interfered.

Focussed on my remaining hand, I grew,
becoming at last the final Brahma,
Grasping the alien ship, I crushed it,
and pulled it to my centre.

Then the collapse of anger into grief
compressed everything into a singularity,
the ship, the earth, all things we knew,
lost in one small black hole.

A random wormhole took me back
to some space-time I vaguely knew.
Brushing my teeth in a suburban home,
memories fading with each stroke.

So now I guess, I'll get along.
Another ten thousand years perhaps,
before we two shall meet again.
But will she know? Will I?

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