A Testament

The decomposing wall I see That encompasses the long dead Lies interspersed among the trees Whose living, fingered roots are fed with nourishment of sublimed faith. I pause a moment… Panning the surroundings I see Row after row of unknown dead Whose tombstones depict family trees Whose living relatives are fed The same promises of blind faith. Why must I lament? The brown withered leaves that I see Wind-blown atop the buried dead Should I mourn provenance: the trees? Why then the promise that is fed: Life after death by keeping faith. A fool is content.