It is possibly the whirl
Of the seasons and the tides
Of rain and shine
Of waxing and waning
And circles within the mind
That shelter us
From the parallel to life
Its pair and opposite.
It is perhaps growing accustomed
To witnessing cycles and loops
Of each day and its reverse
That throws us into conundrum
When a halt appears.
No need for thought
No need for words
No use for desire
No use for change
Holding no purpose
For fire and cold
For the wind and sun
For the senses
For the shell,
The tangible and intangible
All are but the same now
Existing on a non-existent plane.
No use for breath
For time
For space,
That too
Falls in the same pocket.
Perhaps it is the permanence of death
Which is what stuns.
It drains the sense
And reason
From the self
Because dipping the pen in this ink
Once
Paints everything black
Blank
Into the endless.
But this is not an opportunity to crumble
Drenching yourself with despair
With unbent reason
With the distress of sorrow
With insane grief.
No.
This position is a farce
As untrue as a night with sun
And a breath without air,
Because you never truly leave
You were here once
And will be beyond
Translating death, in fact, to be
Nothing.
Death is not an end
It is simply a pause
Realized or unrealized
Rolling out its red carpet
Before the Soul begins to beat again.
Estranged from Life
But only for a moment
The Soul repletes
To be reinstated
And sanctioned
Into the living.
This state is not to be mourned
It is to be rejoiced and honoured
For a life dwells on through its life
Each second spent
Replenished
And cherished.
You live on through the photographs of the memories in each mind
Cradled within the Unseen Eye
Each frame of each breath
Now a treasure
And pleasure
To perceive.
You persist and subsist
Through the sheen of your sparkle
Your verve
Vivacity
Resplendent with each heartbeat
Shared with each Soul.
Animate
And shimmering
Your life sings
As it is born each day
Shining as the sun shines
Upon a deep blue sky.
No force
No matter how dense
Can consolidate life into a box
And conceal it
Behind the wings of unliving.
Life is lived.
It is cherished
And smothered with passion
And breathed
And relished
And delighted in.
Infinitely.
Nothing can take that away.
