he was no longer standing where he had been standing
when I last turned to see him there looking, turning
to look off into the distance at the flocks slowly wheeling
returning to a distant instinctual nurturing.
I hadn’t seen him in ages, aging in the process,
no longer focused, the curse of senescence
just trying to hold on, holding disparate pieces,
unable to see beyond the visual axis,
as he lie there he opened his eyes, looked into mine,
closed them and died. no one saw his eyes look into mine,
the last look at a man who is no longer there,
the last look of a man who is no longer here…
I think that our mind is a prisoner of our body....
ReplyDeleteand that's kind of sad thing, but our mind is also a free person and after our bodies have gone our minds continues...
"the last look at a man who is no longer there"
it could also be a person who has lost itself...
there are many thoughts that was awaken from your poem...