The soil from the grave
he had collapsed against
refuses to leave his hands,
his heart, and his soul;
The wail of the wave
she had buried her grief
in continues to scar the lands
that had once been whole;
The lament of the slave
he has been reduced to
echoes through the sands,
defiling each cherished hole;
The ghost of the brave
being she had once been
mocks the bleak bends
of her path devoid of a goal;
The silence of the cave
that keeps their loss safe
perpetually weaves the strands
of a desolation darker than coal;
The peace they both crave
to somehow breathe again
mercilessly eludes the stands
where they wait sans a role;
How can one hope to save
a life which has lost a life
in the journey that pretends
to exact no substantial toll?!
How can one seek to pave
love, laughter, and life in a
spirit that truly understands
how inexorable is death’s pole?!
The silence of the cave
and the peace they crave
talk to them like the trends
spiralling in an unfamiliar roll;
The soil from the grave
and the wail of the wave
walk with them like the ends
of a familiar daily stroll.
Random Musings Of A Scholar 