Even in death we live on

until the last breath can

no longer recall us.

Rooted in the cold ground,

ethereal,  is there a soul

beneath that cold marble?

Has time returned to the origin

before there was light?

Perpetually I come here,

through the edge of every season

beneath the purple sky

I breathe the eternity of you.

Do you ever scream  out unroll the earth,

dislodge these stones?

Do you ever feel my unfathomable

grief in your mouth.


55 thoughts on “the edge of seasons

  1. I am a Pagan. (No I do not worship the devil)We Do Not die, I believe we are reborn each time to re-write pur past behaviour until we atone or get it right.

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