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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Spiritual · #2267967
Words: hands, clasped, teenage, years, aging, love, flowers, and headstones
Epiphany in a Cemetery

Hands clasped in prayer
I kneel in front of the headstones
supplicating the Creator
to forgives the sins of those
who have ascended
into the spiritual realm.

Thinking back to my teenage years,
I marvel how aging
and experience
have changed my views
of both love and death.

As a teenager,
I thought that death
would be the end of life and love,
but this changed
when I visited a cemetery
and witnessed a butterfly emerge
from its larva case.

After its wings dried,
it flew to each of the flowers
adorning the headstones:
it struck me
that my soul was like that butterfly
and that the blossoms
were similar to the love of God
always feeding my soul.

Poet's Note:

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