Death

This poem is a dedication to both the living and the dead

Into the bookends of his eyes I looked
Fragrant hills of stark infinity...
Blue hues warped by ancestral kinship
He's dying they say...
Aren't we all? I reply
White linens for the expired
A mouthpiece of evidence
A chronicle of years
So much was said,
So much was done...
As I now moon on the hollow shell that remains
I wonder, as the firmament is on earth
Do angels really fly?
His eyes are sealed now
Vacant springs from a broken violin
Have mercy on us, oh reaper of souls
Protect our lives dear guardian angels
Take us home, saint for the sinner
Forgive our infirmities
Meet my maker,
Answer a question
Point in a direction Glimmer of hope,
dashed in the morning fog
Oh eternal flame, save our pneuma
Bring us to redemption
Grant us peace