On the Brink of Death

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The prayers I make will be more of me

Than the actions I didn’t take, the looks downturned

One humble life bids thee farewell

It doesn’t always amount to much

A few good deeds, a few steady interests

Good and evil will frolic together for eternity

Love and war and the chaos of unrest

The prayers I make, well they will not be for me

My soul worshipped subtly, without the need

Of idols, doctrines, dogmas, or even faith!

I needed not to name my Lord, or have it a custom

Of some group of people who looked like me

The prayers, they have their own power to soothe

Painting nor sculpture, nor art, nor music or words

Can compare, to those gentle hours of meditation

Where my soul turned my heart to love on high

Not for human charms or natural shares

But for thirst deeper than body, light

More intimate than breath and biological cares.

 

Reviews

[Prophecy]

Aw thanks!

[Plitman_728]

wow, breathtaking. i'm in love with it.