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Rated: E · Poetry · Death · #2008320
Made in Gods image, we are all Gods in our way.
It’s cold and dark, with hints of sterile in the air
    and you lay so still, so shallow, as you sink under the floor
          to lay among the flowers you planted
Floating down past the waxed shine
    amongst trees of lights tying you to life
          you dream
A dream of Godliness
    so alive as you worked your Earth and planted seeds of eternalness
          your name painted on the world
But the world will forget you
    you just a God in a hospital bed
          as new Gods are born just below you
              battle cry’s sounding
          winding you down
    claiming your Godliness
it is pasted
I am such a God
    watching over you
And Gods watch me
    this turn of the flower
          and the Creator’s careful hand replacing petals as they fall
Collected, you are spread amongst the stars
    and shine for me
          as I watch you this last time

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