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Poem

The heart stops and fight for life ends.
A floating soul no longer fantasies fate. 
A sunset in small steps slipping into infinity 
raucous grief sinking in black funeral cloaks.
Lustre of tears, O loved ones, in white beach
boreal air rustle, drifting away a gold carriage
long bristles of grass, blankets velvet moss
a blue night sky galvanized in whorls of light  
in an array of alabaster snow of white clouds
like prophesies of poet, pigments of painter
repose in photonic sepia, a path to paradise
glimmering in spring flowers, the pearly gate.

Is this the elysium field... 
where a rosary of magical blueberries bubble?
Is this the perfect Xanadu...
where dancing stars can hold the moon forever ? 
Is this the sanctuary where souls awake
from their siesta of mortal desires ?
Is this the place where we get to see God?

But only a serene subterranean invisible river I see
through an unknown nonplussed neon light.
No pantheon of Gods, no  perpetual pleasure
Just a grandeur glimpse of an old couple... 
holding hands, smiling at what life had given 
Unheralded I enter the seven colored heaven.



25th May 2020


Sponsor	Regina Riddle
Contest Name	Heavens

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