By Vincent Nelson
Today is the day I died
Just as every other day is…
I died yesterday, today and morrow
And every day a heart reads this
That by dying, I live…
Yes, I live not in the confines of the grave
Yes, neither in the horizon of any vault
But in the expanse of hearts…
The pelting march of the storm was silent
The rain drops beat the ground
Without a sound
It’s in the land of oddity
Rather, of oddity herself.
The wonderings of my heart
Rather, the wanderings of a dead man’s heart
Have remained unanswered
Where are you taking me to? I ask.
“Heaven”, they say On point…
“Heaven that spits fire like a raged dragon”
But I bet you would not find God there…
Today is the day I died;
Yes, the very day I died
“Heaven is hell?”
But there is silence holding still my worrisome.
If God is not in heaven, then where is He?
Is He then in hell, or here on earth?
It is the day I died
Yes, the very day I died.
In the acute roaming of my heart, I have decided this;
That though dead I am,
And neither heaven nor hell bound, I know not
Whether thither my head would lay
That in this dead skin where I ‘bide
I would surely live a life
That in death I might live.
It is the day I died…
And everytime anywhere a man reads this
Again, I die
Again, I die…