REIMAGINING PLATH

I have done it once more
Twice in every decade
I overcome it —

A more than bright and smiling, my face
Glowing as the full moon
My clavicle

A paper-thin moment,
My hands full of gratitude, shine
Cotton soft

Feed me a paper,
O my lover,
Do I write again? —

The imagination, the visualisation, the heart?
The beating pulse
Will never disappear in a lifetime.

Forever, forever I shall live
The poems galore then shall be
In my name on thee

And I a timeless soul
I am more than a number
And like rebirth I have a million lives to come

This is the first of firsts
What a beginning
To start again refreshed

What countless souls
The angelic crowd
Moves with grace to feel

Them experiencing my purpose and goals
The big bang
Light, Love

These are my sentiments
My emotions
I am more than flesh and bones

Nonetheless, I am formless, bright point
The last time it was seen, I was ageless
It had a meaning.

The next time I was closer to my goal
To know it better I opened all the doors
I was ready

As an always moving galaxy
They had to find and find
And identify the stars over me like a dew over the leaf

Reincarnation,
is an art, like everything else,
I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels swell
I do it so it feels beyond the shell.
I am sure you could say I've had a fall.

It’s soft enough to do it in a dream.
It’s soft enough to do it and forget.
It’s the truth

Comeback in another birth
To the same place, yet different background, the same churn
Amused musing:

‘Another round!’
That keeps me intrigued
There is a beauty

For the wholesome experience of life, there is a beauty
For the call of the inner world —
It really becomes.

And there is beauty, limitless beauty,
For a breath or a being
Or a bit of both

Or a piece of my deeds or my chores.
So, so, Herr Angel.
So, Herr Calling.

I am your God
I am your messenger,
The purest shrine

That breaks into the immortal
I believe and feel relieved.
Do definitely think I have understood your hint.
Magic dust, dust —
You soak and smudge.
Intangibly tangible, everything is there.

A dash of belief,
A meaningless relief,
A priceless feeling.

Herr Saint, Herr Saviour.
Aware.
Aware.

Out of the sachet,
I rise above my despair,
And I eat hope with a flair.

The above piece is written as a very humble tribute and attempt after Sylvia Plath's Iconic Poem - Lady Lazarus.