Now
that you are not-you by Rosie Garland (
After Guardian)
Doctor
comes in majestic
with
his stethoscope hanging around
with
a concerned look of smile;
a
hand on patient’s wrist
watches
the time; There is Time
for
one and all, Time does not yield,
though
it is the best healer;
yes,
he is in the last lobs, breathing tough,
his
rough hands slowly falling down,
face
in the web of unconscious state,
eyes
on the sunken cheeks for a closure
half
willing to open and locate the
whereabouts
of loved ones;
perhaps
dying embers already on him.
Is
it the Breath going away
or
soul craving for its special
assigned
forum, selecting its
own
gathering; It merges with
the
universal, the otherness
on
the other world. Death
bidding
farewell to the loving , caring.
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