“To die is landing on some distant shore.”- John Dryden
Ebbing and flowing
restless tides of my mind
seeking clarity without disparity
As I wander these soft sandy shores
I ponder what happens after we take
our last ragged breath, is there more?
The rush of wind in the sea grasses
whispered cries as if the now dead
are calling to me from afar, yearning
for a soothing voice so they could speak
sweet words of joy, and less of melancholy
And if they could find any way
to communicate after they’re gone
I like to think they would say
The afterlife is thriving and beautiful
with no strife it’s quite lovely here
and every brilliant new day greets us
with a dramatic watercolor dawn
Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo: Thursday photo Prompt Clarity
Poets United: Poetry Pantry #487
The Reluctant Poet 