Graveyards
Graveyards are filled with people, I’ve known;
the landscape of life has changed;
in this season of life; my soul has grown;
from physicality; I am estranged.
Buildings erected; other buildings, torn down;
families move from home to home;
at this stage of life; I feel much like a clown;
or perhaps, a leprechaun or gnome.
Life has attained an austere nature for me;
in many ways; I’m lost and alone;
my soul, from my body, shall soon be free;
and longs to return to my home.
However, my journey seems far from its end;
there are messages I feel I must write;
I must share God’s love; before I ascend;
and again; am drawn to the Light.
Love is the energy; making life worth living;
its essence can’t be shared in a word;
it’s not about receiving; it’s all about giving;
only experienced; neither seen nor heard.
Though I’m now alone; I can still feel love;
I can sense it coming from every eye;
for the Master will someday send his dove;
and death, shall teach my soul to fly.
Graveyards appear as a metapor of death;
instead; they’re an end to earthly strife;
they’re the womb beyond our last breath;
a coccoon; creating new life.
Monty 9/2/23. # 1,771