The Waiting Game

The Waiting Game
Form: Sicilian Quintain

Beyond these realms, there is no sense of fear,
Mystery reveals a different breath,
A warm embrace to hold the soul so dear,
While in her loving arms we wait for death,
And see her smile, at last she’s standing near.
The end is nothing, let her come tonight,
For death is merely beginning anew,
Thus trust the soul to know the time is right,
As it discards the dismal mortal view,
And leaves to dance within her sacred light


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