Dreams of one, dreaming of all,
Time transfixed, from here on out it stood stalled,
And to mull it over, the romantic death of a dove, couldn't even cover
The sentimentality, a heartbeat or line of them drumming,
Forever strong, until like all marches, this forever fades out.
Human isn’t dove, and no matter how much we love,
Life ripped apart, it is also glued via a time adhesive,
Nothing will keep me knocked down until the tomb,
And chiseled on the stone, all that would be desired,
Is in the fullest, that this person lived.
Parentheses would say that he no longer cares,
About heaven or hell,
Or walking dressed in a new body again.
Options, I want to come undone,
In your presence.
No longer becoming,
Swirls of swaddling blue clothes, your being,
Like autumn leaves, not any more can ready be,
To be marked, marked as an eminent imminence; an end.
This, with certainty, but not before with you beaching,
You may not be the one,
And I beseech you, from here quick I’ll be gone again,
But please hear, You've been a good son to me.