What If, I Am On My Death Bed? Poem by Afzal Juneja

A timely raised question in one subconscious,
But all courage petrified, with a desire to chase it in conscious.
"What if, I am on my death bed? "
Is it swinging childhood or ambitious teen,
Or flaunting adolescent or responsible man?
Is it harmony of nature or cologne of women,
Or whispers of my prayers or rhymes of my poems?
All I see is one dense forest of clouds,
Populated by millions of me on a graph of time,
Each with a momentary goal, each searching for a sign.

Gathering wishes, more than what could be held,
Learning piles of words, where most of them, left untold,
Dancing with thoughts, which song may suit the most
Wandering gardens, which flower may smell like a lover,
Visiting harbors, which ship carries literal wisdom,
Following wings, which bird shares the loudest laughter,
Now, questioning all, why it was always about 'which? ',
O' boy, 'which' is always suspicious at its core,
Should've learned the more reliable word, before 'which'; 'why? ',
Only, If he could see the present I.

Forest isn't scattered with dark clouds alone,
Damn, a perception designed by this chaotic world,
With beauty of contemplation, all must see brighter ones too; as I,
Where I found my own bluebird as mentioned by Bukowski,
Where 'She', my only shelter from the storm as Dylan wrote,
Where I understood, difference between wish and desire;
On fulfillment of one,
Where master's curiosity, friend's kind intelligence,
Brother's hug, mother's kiss, and father​'​s preaching,
All, in a distant lonely room, perceived as blessings.

"Shadow of time", where time doesn't exist,
All done and found​​ yet all lost, one mystic place to visit.
Still counting, Is it this breath or that?
Am I going to mourn with grief or grin with relief​? ​
Will there be a seraph near my feet​? ​
Whispering all the paths across the sky,
Or will I be known to the enigma of the incarnation​? ​
Or my expectations of sophisticated inheriting system,
Imitating each other, without souls; turns true​, ​
O' wonders of myths and possibilities, has drifted​​ my view.

There I was, scared of this; thoughts stimulating question,
"What if, I am on my death bed? ",
Repressing it to the deepest darkest corner of my brain,
Here I am, more alive with more connected dots,
Maybe, I will die later or maybe after this line,
Surely, one's regret never dies, but for once and for all,
A wise man must believe, feeling of gratitude is above all.