The spirits crave
Deep into the meaning
Plunge into the blood and guts
Rip the death from its grave
Sometimes seeming . . .
Like the walking dead
Burning down the soul, and what’s
The slave to do, besides endlessly dreaming?
The demons rattle and rave
A false heart beaming
Distractions while they prattle, and cut
Rip the death from its grave
Its cold dead heart, a moment of screaming
And the words that are said
Fully baked to hang until dead
But the victory is won, redeeming.
So spirit, find your heart
Heart, find your beat, your soul gleaming
Teaming with life and liberty unclaimed
Named by the rebirth of hope
Which is death to the scheming
The hope that God gave, which cuts
To the quick, but flings death high and wide
And gives the spirit wings and wind, to fly.
There’s a magical stillness
Deep in this no place
Not even the sound of no sound
Suddenly without warning
Life’s breath sucked into no space
The hush of surprised nothingness
The last mourner goes out the gate
The vacuum of true nothingness
The grounds keeper walks atop
Someone else’s distant grave
The total packed earth, dead still
No ember, no heat nor cold
Freshly and finally settled earth
The saved has been saved
The keep, and the memories fade
What is this silence?
Where nothingness wanes
And death runs to hide
And emptiness would be something
That depleted, also dies?
This is the mind’s deprivation
The hearts final station
The soul longs to try it
Hope’s joy and healing
Found in a moment of
pure and perfect quiet