Sometimes, when I think about the bones we’ve found

and dug up the mysteries of the past from the ground

My head spins and my imagination goes off and around

Who are these people and their stories under dirt bound

Enough rhyming now

I want to know, What kind of love is this

to lay down and curl around another human being

what kind of love accepts the earth as its shoveled

and you’re buried alive, for sake of never being parted

Who decides to defeat fate in such a way

to choose to never see the light of another day

to forego the heartache and the pain

of living without their mate

and maybe I romanticize and fantasize

and dream of everlasting love where there never was any

but I like to think the world was full and abundant

and love was all there was and death couldn’t separate

and so they chose to follow and chase throughout

the dimensions and the gates the portals and the space

to know that your energy, a soul? could never survive

such a terrible place alone and half alive

so they joyfully welcome each handful of earth

knowing that somewhere and sometime else

maybe they would be the first to go

and their mate would follow and endure the race

to find that magical particle and spark of light

that brings their soul to life and makes everything alright

Okay, so I had to do a few more rhymes




Author: doing2016

I started writing when I was very young. Then I was mortified on a bus full of people when one of my stories was read aloud. I lost my focus and quit. Now, I'm trying to find my voice and my ambition. I love to write, good or bad. So, I'm doing it here and now. Thank you.

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