WHEN MY THOUSAND NIGTHS FALLS

August 17, 2020

When the vehicle death comes

and my last respect is paid

by the ones my mortal call family and friends

before my mortality returns to dust

Tell my mortal half not to cry

tell my seeds not to cry

for i am gone for a second waiting

a waiting for the promised second coming

Let my ink and sheets be laid on me

for a record of my immortal life

let my honey not be given to dust, but to living dust

for my spirit shall only ink his journey

Let the eyes rain not be seen on living dust

for i have completed my journey of the dust

but may my muted spoken voice be read to all

for it is my willing to the living dust.

Something wrong with this poem?

Replies are closed for this poem.

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.