The Eternal Return of the Same

I cannot bear to be reborn

and live this life all over again

I am not afraid of living its tedious bore

craving in vain for a meaning

or a sense of balance or worth

I am not afraid of coming to age unprepared to soar

living on the chasm’s edge

lacking the courage to leap

or die the thunders’ hedge

Not even fearful am I of re-living my old age

with all the intrigues it’s bound to wage

not finding inspirations in Mozart’s stage

but flogged by the dribble of a kitchen spout

broken in a family rage

not caring for the contours that lit bright

but seeking in the darkness’s embrace for a surprise

secreting on my eyes winter nights

fear or doubts that maybe this wasn’t my life

I only played for someone’s

who will rest in my plot

spewing rumors after both our demise

Borrowed a heart and only its sighs

thus, hunkered in time and a place averred to be mine

Yet, I fear not another life identical to the one I’ve survived

but horrid of the hurt I might reprise on those I’ll walk by,

and to those unknown alike.

Behrooz Ghorbanian

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