Oct 7, 2010


Yesterday I died for the last time,
I'd been dying for ages, 
The burial was complete.

Did you know, unfinished burials are the cause,
Of restless spirits and incomplete dreams,
Of resurgent desires & desperate claims?

He who came before, did the deed,
You were kinder, you wove the shroud,
With loving care and great heed.

Cleansed my soul, purified my lust,
Taught me to rest, and scraped the rust,
You held my hand in those precious last moments, 
You held my gaze, but it still rained in torrents.

You taught me to love the soil,
You told me, it needn't be the end.
Peace and calm would end the strife,
As you led me to the afterlife.


ramblings said...

poetry! sigh! to me they mean a lot; usually when words are all in a disarray, along with a whole lot of things! :)
and you do rarely come out with these, though love them equally!

drift wood said...


Thanks. I cant write poetry to save my life. But there are days when you want to get something out of the way & then this happens.

Anonymous said...

Why don't you come to your senses?

There's a lot in Life
That comes free from Strife

Say not the struggle not availeth!

But then why do we need to struggle
When all we need is a snuggle?

Snuggle up to George Carlin
Or if you can't find him
Come to me
For I will help you find
George Carlin!