The Last Chapter Poem by Piyush Dey
The Last Chapter
Upon a clean shelf,
there lied a dusty book,
and upon it was written-'Life'.
When the dawn arrived after
a drowsy slumber with the
sunlight in tiptoe,
I opened it and tried
moving to last chapter,
the chapter which would say
my death, so that i could change
it with a blissful day
years far away,
I kept going on, pages by
pages, but the chapter didn't
come, as if it didn't exist
at all,
Maybe, it got mixed with the
dust on the book, or
maybe in the night which i
left behind.
Or maybe somewhere where
no other chapter can reach.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/10/2024 5:39:00 AM # 1.0.0.1119
The premise of this poem is very clever. I'm sure we would all like a chance to the Book of My Life and finagle with the dates. I would immediately change my birth date and give myself another youth to live. OOPS! That's probably why we're not allowed to see such a book. You create a good deal of suspense about the date of your death which is nowhere to be found. Your poem does not explain this or resolve the issue. But I like the openendedness. It's reassuring that someone just might slip into immortality on an oversight.