Woe, beneath this blessed moon that crowned the night
I stand in brief so much grief yet no eyes would cry these tears
That lain and slain me as withering winds of so much infamy
Smothered in trees like the sheet of a mother's cold bed
So maybe the cold is my middle name
Of subjects and objects that carry no more weight in my world
But never too sure of himself to seek resolution as this sun kisses the past
For I have never the will to do courage a good favour, nor will I hear from hope anon
Could it be that no matter on Earth would do me justice as this earth on my frozen face?
Or maybe it is just some singing melancholy that I have yet to silence them all, so mote it be?
But alas, as bereavement make way for ignorance and forgetfulness this pain still reigns in jest
And none but oh so Almighty would emancipate naught but the sweetest of agony when my time comes...
So now let me carry on my final journey as the Minstrel so silenced and a Traveller bereft of words to say
For it is not my intention to be cried into this world to be what I'm now, God forbid me from being misled
To sing this final sigh at the stone of a heart and earth of a body, on this tranquil midnight of no madness
One for the sinning mages called Humanity, and the other for this lifelong living body I called my sorry self
Far beyond the dying sound, of peace and infamy revealed...
And even further still it seems, the thrones of my Majesty!
SAIF MINTAKA
KL
2011
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