Perhaps death is like a day without you;
empty, and no more eternal.
Perhaps it hurts no more
than when you close the door and go.
Perhaps it comes suddenly
as your smile does, when I touch you
or creeps in slowly,
as my fingers do, past the hem of your pants.
Perhaps I have felt it a thousand times,
when there was no time and no thing but your kiss.
Perhaps no dissolution more
than when all dissolves
but me and you.
Perhaps it is no more to be feared
than when we switch off the light
and simply touch
and merge and feel no loss.
Perhaps death is as warm as your breasts,
soft as your kisses,
moist and inviting,
bringing to life hidden pleasures
and that exquisite ache.
And the heart,
perhaps its final beat
is the peak of that leap it takes
when I see your face.
Perhaps the peace is no less
than when we have made love
and hold each other close
- by Prajna Pranab, 28/09/2008