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Thursday, 31 December 2015

Living and dead

Take your arms away
I don't need comfort
I don't need shelter
There's no storm
It's just my conscience
that I must sleep with each night
Every day I awaken
to its voice

Though you lived with pride,
or in others' minds died
defied your maker, and nature
and the cards
Then you left with pride
having stood the test of time
defied the ages, and the sages,
and the gods

Take your eyes away
I'd rather not be seen
I'd rather not be heard
I'm a ghost
It's just my presence
lingering on, lingering still
I was once driftwood
now I'm one with the stream

copyright Dean R Boic 2015

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