Beginning... End

They walk in lines... two by two.
Numbering many, yet countless few
Understand the path they take.
With torch in hand, they'll never wake you.
Footsteps flow through feelings... sorrow,
Ensuring that you'll see tomorrow.
Performing not what people do.
They march with flames and dreams to show.
Like all before, their time has come
To take their fire... make it one
Ball ablaze to light the world
Until -- at length -- the final hurl's done.
A massive light, as shadows hide
In crevices deep within, inside.
And all at once, unleashed at last,
Another day will come to pass by.
All too fleeting it does appear,
But a lifetime to those who've gathered here.
They join hands... quiet, movement slow.
A welcomed tear has come to know fear.
And in the breeze, they fade away
As twilight puts to sleep the day.
The fire made a lifetime ago
By apparitions, wraiths, and souls may
Someday be remembered well...
Of when two lovers heard the bell...
Of when a mother first held her child...
Or when you laughed all the while, well
Then their lives were not in vain.
They thrive in every drop of rain.
As each new soul takes place in line,
Forever remaining silent, blind... sane.

A Dead Past

Spare her at least… look, you have taken from me
The Present, and I murmur not, nor moan
The Future too, with all her glorious promise
But do not leave me utterly alone

Spare me the Past – for, see, she cannot harm you
She lies so white and cold, wrapped in her shroud
All my own… and, trust me, I will hide her
Within my soul, nor speak to her aloud

I folded her soft hands upon her bosom
And strewed my flowers upon her – they still live
Sometimes I like to kiss her closed white eyelids
And think of all the joy she used to give

Cruel indeed it were to take her from me
She sleeps, she will not wake – no fear – again
And so I laid her, such a gentle burthen
Quietly on my heart to still its pain

I do not think that any smiling Present
Any vague Future, spite of all her charms
Could ever rival her. You know you laid her
Long years ago, then living, in my arms

Leave her at least – while my tears fall upon her
I dream she smiles, just as she did before
As dear as ever to me – no, it may be
Even dearer still – since I have nothing more

(For my mom, Carol A. Walker Scroggins
March 1st, 1948 - May 5th, 2009)