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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Philosophy · #2114063
The song we all shall sing, one day.
Sweet Old Song

isn't that really what it is,
a sweet old song?
One of yesterday's past,
it is always gone and so we are.
In death you can put no trust;
an emotion which,
you cannot take on that journey.
Yet, our lives are put within that,
mysterious place, once again.
The verse shall raise up;
its lack of weight cause flight,
and It became the wind.
Not a thought but an instinct.
There will truly be no tomb,
only fortunes to bathe,
find freedom one more time.
Before long, once again,
We will be playing that,
sweet old song of death.
Once we have returned.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2114063