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Sleep in deepest slumber sleep,
Where willows weep, and dark descends,
This is a season with no end,
For hollow is each day that dawns,
To wish for dreams that cannot be,
And hope for love we will not see,
Each ending to unfinished hours,
So quickly does the night portend,
Upon exactly life will end,
It's servants of relentless woe,
For now, there is no place to go,
Except inside cold, barren ground,
Where whispers wail without a sound,
As strife escapes, eternal peace,
At last, alone, each soul shall be,
Asleep, in deepest slumber...sleep.
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it appears there is then the potential to awaken ...
fee
Excellent writing,as I can feel every word!
Always,
Deborah
Much peace, love and light,
Amber
You painted life as 'tis is and death as the final dirge . . .