Shells Of Joy

I lie beneath six feet of damp, earthen clay

With my earthly separation now forever unto me claimed.

Overtures of joy are lost, and wax cold to a forgotten tune,

As blind marauders of failed justice collapse

wearily beneath consummations dying moon.

So light now the bitter candles this silent morrow,

and hasten quickly unto this shimmering regret

as the fallacies of conjecture repeal my sentence of sorrow.

For the cold has crept in softly on tiny cotton feet

And destiny is soon mine in which to forever greet.

So lay now to a wreath of smooth silken black,

Toss it now gentle onto this mound of grief,

And never look back.

For I no longer reside in this broken vessel of clay,

As I have in spirit greeted a higher plane.

So goodbye for now my love… goodbye my sweets.

Worry not this day, and fret not the coming morrow,

For we shall meet again, and we will once more

Dance by the sea, and gather shells of endless joy.

J. Allen Wilson © 2005