dirge
⊆ 10:57 PM by Pete | Poems . | ˜ 0 comments »
Listen to the song of the dirge,
on his last string, the last rhythm
Listen to the echoes
of the valley of death,
and the rhythmic chorus
of your footfalls.
Lament not the spring flowers,
nor whispered winds of bright colors
With a flick of a hand, you feel no more
nor dream again
A candle once burned,
shall never be unburned.
Will suffering mark your path,
or will hope show the way?
Will you journey in despair,
or illuminate in enlightenment?
But may you always be remembered,
and may you always loved
May the veil be lifted,
and may you always be safe.
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