If there were a million deaths,
Waiting,
Everyone would be taken,
For a new vision.
Time flies by,
So do every moment,
Even more so,
When the wind stays still.
White on the ground,
Flowers above,
Moments unsure,
Yet believe them to be true.
Hope is after all,
All that burns,
To keep the soul traveling,
From this spot to the future.
Up,
Or,
Flowing carefree with the wind,
Death is welcome,
If only for acceptance.
Silly maybe,
Not a care even,
Yet deep in the lake,
Lies the feet.
Hoping for the pigeon,
To fly back,
Into the lions den,
For the King lay waiting,
For a hundred years,
And more.