Maybe only music could slow this heart rate.
Maybe for me is already too late.
This clock has no end to stop.
Maybe we ticktack like an old watch
till when we drop.
My eyes are dozy in the tune of death
but a breeze of uncharted chant
resuscitates me,
protracting my lungs
to one more breath,
appeasing the tears of Able
with Seth.
Now
there is no emancipation
but in THE song
that spreads in my head
and striving along
in my heart as strong.
Now even though I am dead
I am free instead.
Now that you killed me,
to
THE song
I shall only
belong.
