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Death Be Not My Prison Made

We exist in ourselves with multiple connections We earthly move as, I, me, mine/ fictional pretenses all together as a trio of one. We enliven our ancestors in every aspect of past life overtures. In physical death we are surrounded by/with every eternal loved one, as they patiently wait in their spiritual wings, eagerly awaiting to celebrate our ethereal homecoming.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2023




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Date: 2/20/2023 10:27:00 PM
Death as a homecoming. Well expressed, Dave.
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Date: 2/20/2023 10:15:00 PM
Lovely poem, a lot to ponder.
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Book: Reflection on the Important Things