Thursday, 7 March 2013

Death Considered

Death can be tragedy,
Preceding a majesty.
For some it's an ending,

For others it's, 

The end of descending, 

Begins a new rending.
Bending space time,

To fine chimes,
Silly rhymes, silly rhymes, silly rhymes...

...As time draws to a close unity.

Loves divine opportunity.
Me? Well me, 

I found purity.

As space rose to toast ghosts, most verbose.
These hosts of lifes coasts, so engrossed.
In our physical journey.

Yet still.

They so wanna see
In reality.

Death, like your breath is a point on a curve.
Macbeth! When it's fully observed.
For some it’s absurd, for others reserved.

Judgements Herd.
Many fearful birds, prefer instead, their turds blurred.

It's a mystery

It makes history 
Invokes some to glum misery.
Yet, like volcanic caldera.
Tends the ends of Wo(man)s era.
The start of an intake,

For those experiencing remake.

Death most curiously, 

The onset of clarity.
A clarity for, and of, WE.
A clarity that one day,
All of we.
We all shall see.

And there is, most simply,
Absolutely nothing to fear.
My dear.

Oh dear.
My dear, dear granny.
So near and yet so far.

Blessings to one and all!

We are one and I love you.
Space time will focus divine intent.
God Bless.
By Stephen Ross

No comments:

Post a Comment