Poetry from Mesfakus Salahin

Middle aged clean cut South Asian man with red hair, reading glasses, a white collared button down shirt, and his head resting on his left hand where he has a watch on his wrist.

Being Alone

Very often I forget the consciousness of death
Although my hands are stuck to the soil of the grave
Every human being wears clothes
Addition and subtraction of demand
A staircase extending from zero to infinity
The galloping horses run into the unknown
The distance radius increases from person to person
People bury dead people and want to escape from death
The time map stops with hands raised
Deeds walk along the path of the past
A dark wind rising from the hole of the grave Hiding the footsteps of dead people
The fragrance of roses, the color of marigolds become like a stranger.
White chrysanthemum wrapped in a shroud
Perception on the leaf is irrelevant
Running from death to survive
Quick exit from the cemetery
Where one day we must come for eternity.
Then being alone.

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