Stone sculpted poetry and roses from the funeral A memorial to death, words of admiration The dance of leaves in early autumn haze As with the constant wind comes the grief
Colors won’t describe nor will they provide With flavour, nothing but grey leaving a bitter scent
No release, enslaved by the past, see the sun go down for the last time before darkness master my rest
Here; the caskets where spirits as captives lie Holy ashes to be dust before materialized Darkly veiled the heart to be forgotten Knowing death would bring enlightenment
Souls it wants to ‘rid, souls unpure; birthed from bitter roots
Outside the prisoners bound to hear the wind whirling ‘round Their presence immortally screaming even after their death