Wednesday, March 2, 2016

Standing Beside the White Cypress

The need to explain the world
The desire to belong to known rules
The agony to confront the end
This is the work of memory

And memory has many forms
Not all in the thoughts of the living
The children of Earth and starry sky
Water in a lake of symbols

Having been allowed to drink
You will continue on the road
But you cannot carry the lake yourself
Who you are where you are from

Only the gold leaf neatly folded
Tucked into your ashes
Empty skull or earthenware
Floats across and is memory again

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.