[untitled]

Holding on tightly, for your dear life. Dont leave me my friend, it's not time to die.

The shadows dance around us. The wind sings through the tree's, a sad melody I hear a sad melody it brings.

The flowers around me die. The dealer of death is near. I smell the awful stench, and shed but one more tear.

I can't let it take you, no, not away from me. It will have been too many, but I know you will be free.

So I let you go. I only want the best, even if it hurts, I know you need to rest.

This silence is deafning, I hope your in our secret place. I won't tell anybody, It wont be the last time I see your beautiful face.

I've felt like this before, I've wept to the spirits my sorrow. All they can say is nothing, but the comfort gave forth hopes of tomorrow. 

I know it will be alright. I trust the new day. Even if with out you here, there will come a way.

I will see you again, This I beleive. Out of death comes a new life we all are to conceive.

The fire is brought forth, lighting the night sky, I dance and dance, there's no need to cry. 

This is inner peace, I trust the new sun. It is newly born, and the past has been done.    

Reviews

[Pax Analog]

The poem seems an enigmatic dance with literal or metaphoric death, cessation of meat, or another veil of illusion stripped away. A mysterious faith in some core-affirming life dancing with the sorrows of dead roads.
Flickers like light and shadow across on an unwritten page o' life.

The new sun's either a terrestrial new day or the midnight sun of infinite inner life. Perhaps it doesn't matter which. Some gurus say the hallucinatory apparatus applies to the "normal" consensus realm as much as the interactive subject-object enigma in any other realm, so-termed inner, or so-termed outer.

Here comes the sun.