Funeral

Caskets lay in flames of life,

bodies are too surreal to touch.

Kissing the frost of anger,

lifting a veil of tears toward fallen gates of heaven.

Swollen hearts lay shattered on a stone floor,

dark watchers are in sapphire shadows.

Tiny devils dance in tune with sorrow,

Sun light has fallen like a corpse from an oak tree.

Spring turns away from them with an embittered sneer,

Dramatic cries to the Gods in heaven,

ignored by fertile angelic bliss.

A fabled word of comfort burns the fragile skin.

Daylight fades away into history,

a memory of loved ones remains in the soul.

Gathering storm clouds in a bronze hue,

spirits climbing a stairway to judgment.

This old earth is lost among the onyx fog,

spirits of the dead used as pillars for death’s castle.

Chapter 50