Grey - Heikal Badrulhisham


The coals have greyed, just heat and fume.
A morning mist, a nameless ghost,
And yet a burden on my hosts.
My weave is tangled in the loom,
No blooms, no spring, no mirth,
Mere tracks upon the earth.
Dream after dream, there forms my tomb.

Perhaps on my tomb the vines will creep,
The earth will cease to bear my grey,
Like spring runnels the frost away.
None I want to comfort me to sleep,
Blanket me without a stone
Where the moon has never shone
Amid sunflowers that never weep.

Amid the surf upon the shore I stand
Away from the branches I’ve broken,
The wind reclaims the breaths I’ve stolen.
Oh ancient grass, tired soil, unknown spans,
Seasons, seasons stands a grave,
Lower me amid the waves
For me to sleep upon the lowest sands.