Time Of Death?

To cognate or disambiguate: the question arises

from the inferno of the funeral fire,

indicating the final refining is at an end,

and the interrogation of a life may begin.

 

Burst bubbles of expedience demand no less

than pretentious pronouncements which camouflage

collective fear of death. Symphonic silence

greets the unearthly flames which transport us to ash.

 

Minds snap shut in metallic mutiny: there but for the

grace of God go I, for I shall never die.

Thus do the disillusioned prognosticate about the

life that will never be lived, nor theirs to love.

Reviews

[SilentVerses]

A classic voice of prose does linger through the literary masterpiece of such stunning work, complimenting one another endlessly your words flow fire, burning a trail through and across the page of a flaming passion for language. Meaning flows in contrast, in parallel, to the hidden detachment, a life flows current through and over the stanzas as the story, unraveled, travels through deaths incandescent charm, as silence descends the words scream loud an answer to the question never asked.

[Sher{alynn} Veron{ica}]

Wow, deeply divine reading!