Until the End of Time
A year has passed, I do believe
I may be breaking free
I still don't see or feel or hear
But somehow I can Be
I know the day, I know the night
It doesn't matter how
I died in summer, felt the change,
And know it's summer now.
I can no longer feel my body
I'm sure it isn't there.
There's no more digging all around me
The atmosphere is bare.
And yet I know that I exist
For I am far from Gone.
The more I grow, the more I Know
And strive to go beyond.
The End
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THE GOODS
You're currently reading a branch in the poem
Death in Singsong. This branch
was posted on Jun 16, 2009 by
Rac7hel.
This is a collaborative poem.
Some rights reserved.
This poem is filed under:
Philosophy / Moral, Religion / Spirituality, Simple Rhyme
This poem belongs to 1 group:
Collaborative Poetry
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