Keeper of the Dead,
Do you ever weep for the living?We hardly ever seem to abide a day
Without grieving some body or time lost.
I’d rather lay it off on selfishness than
Faithlessness, for never have I been without Occasional vice and gladly defer character to
Soul redaction nurtured by unholy embraces.
Some can’t say dead, some can’t see dead.
Others know the results of Judgment DayIn advance even of the announcement of
Jubilation’s opening act. This I ponder.
Those that like me, sat the night in a death house
Comforted by ones loved not wisely But too well, realize the mistakes of us left
Alive now no longer haunt our beloved departed.
It is this cyclic end that is out horror to bear,
Life, interrupted. Her pallid conscience adrift in anIndigo night fraught with rogue waves lurking.
Welcome new mornings chance we may love again!
No comments:
Post a Comment