Rhythm of Life

Death instills the final emotion, defining the rhythm of life, While understanding its passage is left to a wiser man; The simplicity of a moment lays deep within, and is limited to the meaning withheld’ But we may all be gone in a moment, condemned to the changing time … Yet when I die just dig a hole and throw in my mangy bones Death mocks us in the starlight, and beckons on the suns rebirth, Silent thoughts are thus imposed, when loud a church bell sounds, In melodic rhyme the rhythm of time, came out over a graven mist, And how bitter the solitude foretold, when morn led on to day … But when I die just dig a hole and throw in my mangy bones Death remains an enigma once held to a passing thought, When lines of an ancient mariner are lost forever more; Structured words are what our mind recalled, and are played to the rhythm of life And intent we are to things unseen when sunrise turns to day… Yet when I die just dig a hole and throw in my mangy bones