Do not tell me that death is an anaerobic sleep,

And like the whale which swallowed Jonah,

It’d spew my son at the tideless shore of bliss,

Just  to muffle my mournful wail!

If you must, let your coffin first sail on a sea of dirges,

And you, with the blade of curiosity,

Have slit open the belly of graves;

Then you can wag your tongue

On my bed, lies unclad grief and death- seductively becks

And I hang on, because you speak of a nightmare,

Awaiting folks who by the lullaby of suicide, slumber sweetly.

Wait till we regurgitate your last words and of its cud, chew,

Wait till you have watched the barren black night, birth light,

And confirmed that the grave is a footpath to eternal delight;

Until then, do not tell me that death is a luminous darkness