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Rated: E · Poetry · Spiritual · #1603096
what are we to be after death?
Oh, splendid amorphous nature calling my name
Grandeur waits to hasten me to thy haven there
With such candor I do protest ‘that is not my aim!’
Yet I feel no danger pervading the air

Senses fail and all is unseen
So I sail into the darkness—unkempt, and unclean!
You place me still beneath both land and sea
No waves, no winds carry me to places I’ll be

Stillness pervades me while people above weep
I wonder, still, where I have come to be.
No answer arrives to which I can keep
I grow weary, confused, a scorned abductee!

Stolen from above; from friends and from joy
I seek thee nebulous creator to rapture me free
Sublime bliss and nature is too absent to employ
My disregard for you was merely an earthly decree!
© Copyright 2009 Joseph Michael Webb (meteofan07 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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