If cemetery, a library.

If cemetery a library
I know I have tonnes of books
To flip through pages of lives
Searching for story that suits mine.
Each tomb I place my gaze on

Is a book written in time

Encasing many sagas of sweet and bitter

On worn out pages and new as well.

A final chapter concludes

When each bid farewell

To everyone around and with a final dot
The epistle ends with solemn gratitude.

Nobody halt the journey unfinished
Where one ought to stop, there he stops,
Succintly Mother Nature fixes the finishing
Be it a sorrow filled, or happy one.

Each tomb, I place my gaze on

Is a book written in time

They left indelible vibrations in the ether

For others to breathe in stories beyond the tomb
To charter a new chapter for a new book
Every tomb speaks in silence.

Each book here is a precious print

For the divine in each marks the words therein

Each carries a story different

As their life they live, they  see what they perceived.

It is not a zeitgeist of our existence

To refute the strangeness of Mother Nature

Because when she decides to write

In beauty and mystical mystery she writes

And these books too

She writes, beautifully.

If cemetery a library

Each tomb, I place my gaze on

Is a book written in time.

©cyclopseven. All rights reserved 200510.