atoms stir neath soil in grave
Hidden in shadow and echo of death's sand.
And in resurrection of whirling motion
Blending recreation of the immortal man.
Ascending moist caverns where darkness tills
In memory of light and the promise eternal.
Permeating, diffusing barrier once forsaken,
Life meets death in one final rehearsal.
As the grey blends beneath veil of its curtain
A dance foretold as blastema's suture mends,
The chamber of concrete encapsulation
Where our body finds heaven to meet hell
Synthesize then blend.
Streams join in flow to breed tranquil gardens
Patterns and thoughts blend in pull of the tides
Merrily drifting amidst borders still moribund
A glimpse of forests through leaves of the mind.
Respectful of these ritual as we march in line of the procession....
Where color and sound lose appropriate attire
And beliefs compromise in lieu the final curtain.
Thoughts are buried as we are lain and admired....
Fools whose admiration is bequeathed in an empty grave.
For it is here and beyond three days the spirit arises......and
Love's ascension relieves the pain and darkness
So we can be freed to take flight from this place inside us!
- Blanche McLanahan