This poem is written to end the first collection of my works. It talks about the final stages of Oedipus’s life where he sees light amidst darkness and realizes nothing escapes from fate. All that is destined is nothing but the course of life and with their occurrences the journey is said to be completed. One who tries to stop it will not succeed but end at seeing the culmination of the oracle each soul is entitled for.
This small but eternal journey of mine,
Makes me feel nothing changes the twine.
I have cured plague and have moved,
I who have seen storms and sailed,
And unknown of the blood that I shine.
Let no unknown folk talk about me,
For known is the lives that lived here.
Let all stars be there to guide me,
When am gray, old and sublime.
The tale of the self is an illusion,
As each moment we lived is gone.
Those moments shall not return,
Nor shall I redo all that is undone.
The demon is in holding the meaning,
With intellect so uncured and untrue.
I still sit on this wide crossroad
Where three known roads meet.
Every soul will sit here awhile,
Then journey through tears or smile.
Great warriors have surrendered
To the fate they worshipped;
For me there is no glory ushered
In these false applauds of the world.
The answer to the sphinx is man
As the reason to the riddle is to live.
I killed both to surge into a great war.
There is no Corinth, no Thebes
But the giant solitude everywhere.
My deeds will not be pardoned,
But will stand through for measure.
In this temple of dark eloquence
Let history only follow the Light.
The Soul's Whisper 