73 Poem by RIC BASTASA

i have nothing to ask of you
or of myself
i have been here and have slept on the coolness of grasses
and i have seen the rainbow all complete with its array of colors
i heard the black bird sing
and so is that white bird on the roof of my house
doves and crows
and cars and wheelbarrows

i have loved and lost and loved and won
there is nothing to prove there is nothing to show
time tells us in the dusk that it will end somewhere someday
like a fortuneteller covering her head with a black headdress

i am not awed and neither i ask
i am not curious anymore

i listed to the flow of the river
it is the music to my ear

i am fed up with all these big and little things in my palms
let them all be birds and butterflies
let them all fly away and let them all not come back