Baskadia

Of what use is my existence with a mere daily singsong of hope

When the awful night forbear to pass away, I perverse ill rope

When the light put on airs on the hill, no springs attached

Dove glides away, now I worry less of being attacked

Because we are all caught: strangers and aliens

Watching from an unforeseen blur lens

Of life laying lifelessly before our eyes

Of course, we await not furnace ice

When life promise not serenity

We're scattered in obscurity

Some found pacific stead

That blooms instead

Of anguish eyes,

Clouds pitiness

From the wise

Contrariwise

Hope is found;

As the rock I fond

As I have expected

Where it is not planted

Since I know life is worth living

I'll look up when it is time of leaving

the ephemeral pleasure of life and its thyme

Let the waves proclaim; it is not a waste of time

I have tasted both good and bad; till I'm grasped alive

I live even if not up to the fullest of what I expected of life;

"Felicity fill here, may I stay forever" As it is, only one thing left

I will never forego hope, clasps as if telling a lover "you're my depth"

Even in pain as I close unfulfilled life page in death, I do not resist saying;

Of what use is my existence with a mere daily singsong of hope while dying.