If anything, nothing will cease to exist
One fisherman to another hunter-
For only change form and light would still transmit
Down the stream in to the pool of kin
Was washed away my gracious tin.
And if it any, if at all when we die we'll get small
Condensed into but a speckle
Expanded upon when we wake, don't even notice at all
Down the stream in to the pool of choice,
When you finnaly arrive you'll hear your voice.
If not, nothing happens, pain ceases to exist
Shadows disappear in pitch dark-
Memories made, would turn from pure pain to endless bliss
Down the stream in to the pool of life,
We know not rest just constant strife.
What did you think
Comments
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another happy poem... you have a thing for this poetry.... very nicely donee(:
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