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DEATH 4 (THE VACUUM) : SONNET 11

Page after page I turn back on my life
And see each day has past no words to show,
Robbed of are all of rivalries and strife
On every recto and on every verso.
No trace of tears, or bloodshed, or champagne
Of joy, as I pore over, do appear --
All feats and defeats of my selfish campaign
Are gone beneath the sheets' each rusty layer.
If at all from the depth, spurt out big ones, 
Fear of death instantly sucks them down,
Superfluous life of gain and self-indulgence
As into vacuum of the void, does drown.
I find in me no David or Goliath
As slides the life into th' abyss of death.

- N P SAMAL

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