This is death in solitude
Blowing winds by darkened skies
Against a wheat field which thrives
Death is quietly wise
Silent in its own exsistence
It comes not until the time
When it has been called
To mete out its purpose
In the unfamiliar paradigm
Doth it enter the intellect
To have a moment or two
It sits in the minds of all it takes
In retrospect of what it must do
Delivery of what it must
To know death you may trust
Is not a fearful thing to know
When the time has come to go
She will extend her hand so slightly
No spoken words as if to say
I will hold your hand in mine
This journey is my ballet
It merely is a migration
From womb to tomb in lands
Tombs unfold back into wombs
Life always commands
Reciprication of many sorts
Another day will come
A chapter ends-another begins
Rebirth is the total sum
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
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