by Shampad Rahmatullah

You cannot say we have not lived,
For we have braved the fires of our own.
You cannot say we know not loss,
For what have we gained if not loss’s trust?
Have we not stared Death in its eyes?
Hoping against hope we do not blink?
Have we not shed tears of sinful blood?
For our sweat and toil were to preserve the crimson prisoner.
We have toiled, despaired; we have died
A million deaths in the shadow of our kin.
And yes we have laughed, for mirth was our reward
For the sun lusts for the night with virgin passion.
You stand here, on the precipice of your life
Hoping for answers, and that we have none.
For you too will grasp at Hope’s wings and fall
Unfettered into ruin, or close enough.
And you shall rise again, just as we have,
If God is that kind.
Or you shall join Him on the upper side,
If you were that kind.
Or you shall burn in the fires of life’s very flames,
Wishing for Hell to end your sacred baptism.
Hope that life is truly that kind.
And maybe you shall join us one final time.
So advice we have, so listen well.
Know that we have gained, and we have lost,
Know that we have hated, and we have loved,
Know that we have cried tears of joy, tears of sorrow, tears of mercy.
But final of all, know this one truth.
That we have lived our lives, full and true.
A lifetime was given to us to live as we would.
And we lived with glory, setting our suns in seas forever blue.

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