Poem Fodder and the Ducks in the Pastures of UnTime

1. The Pastures of UnTime
I died a little,
And my son died a little,
As I waved him goodbye,
On his short trip to visit
His kin in Melaka.

It is good to die a little,
I doth think.
If not for anything but to learn
To yearn, and hopefully
Remember just how
Precious time is.

For of this reality,
Little can encompass
The gift of time,
For while the sorrowful
Despair of time, in their
Mistaken desire for death,
We are tasked to learn
And appreciate time,
And though we too
Desire a death (hehehe, having no choice really),
We wish it would be a goodly death,
And the end of a rich and gratifying
Journey in time, and with
Grateful expectations,
O’ Lord and Creator of Time,
If these are the pleasures of Time,
What honey and wine awaits us
In the pastures of UnTime?

POEM FODDER. I wrote this prose a couple of years ago. I think it was the second time Mika left with his mother and her family for a one day trip to her hometown. The annual occasion was the Eidul Fitri celebrations which marked the end of the Muslims' one month of fasting during holy Ramadhan. I remember feeling melancholic as I watched him wave goodbye from the car as it headed to the North-South Highway. These heart-yearning stuffs are what poets use as fodder for their writing, but on that day, poems were the last thing on my mind.

DUCKS IN THE PASTURES OF UNTIME. Well... who's to say that there won't be ducks in the Hereafter? I think the possibility of ducks inhabiting heaven and its numerous free parks cannot be discounted. I have no complains of this world, which I think is simply perfect. But such is its perfection, I am twitching with anticipation of what the Lord has in store in the Pastures of UnTime. I will see you there, sunshine... And If you find me absent, then for Goodness Sake's, look for me and get me there!

Pax Taufiqa.