Ernest Robles Poet Free verse

Living Ghost of Past Memories

NEAR the end of everything
life became more clearer
the whisper became loudly:

         i should be laughing
         i should be crying
         i should be hanging ---
                    up there

so do not come to my grave
because i am still walking
{i am not there]
do not bring me flowers
because i left my heart
beneath a growing garden
(it's all witihin my will)

You know that love desires
valleys so deep like an ocean
and the highest of hills
within its swollen rolls 
like a mystery mixed in a potion

And     everything is made of love;
        like a thousand winds that blow
        like a smile it kills the heart's pain
Unlike  the day the world came apart
and     the sun burned out
and     the moon fell down
and     the fire became so cold

So i am dead but still walking:
the living ghost of past memories.

:: 05-31-2018 ::

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