The Dead Live To Breathe

Poems Of Hope, Spirits, The Book Of The Dead

by Cliff Rhodes

 

The Dead Live To Breathe

05-30-2012

 

The dead tiptoe across the water and don't get their feet wet.

Vested in spirit, they are moving among the heavens.

Twinkling in starlight, ghostly figures dance.

Laughing at the veil slightly open, they are happy.

 

We only think death is gloomy, but really we should play music.

In tune with a fortune inherited, Spirit is beautiful.

Who does not say that they ever think about death?

Well you should, as it is arriving shortly for everyone.

 

Meekly the dead remember how they wanted to change.

Radio and television was occupying all our time to delay.

Could we have started a new character before the arrival of the day?

Waiting was not opportunistic for we were too busy to fail. 

 

Now, they dance anyway, because all the burdens are gone.

No more schedules, nor taxes, or bills, to make a haunting. 

To let go of the demands was enough just to breathe.

Weeds now are occupying the sidewalks, which once were clean.

 

Our abode is not with the dead but with the living.

We don't hang out with corpses inside boxes rotten within.

Daylight and starlight brings us out to play the waiting game.

Stay awake my child, for dreams are our favorite vacation place.