Michael
Let your spirit soar now.
Let it move as tumbleweed
unrooted and free to roam.
Let your spirit fly now
with the freedom of a lark
uncaged and ethereal.
Gliding on the breeze,
or as a rustle in the trees.
Rolling on a riptide,
or wafting on warm winds
in eastern lands as they
move the earthly sands of time.
Your passing has released you
to be what you would be;
a spirit truly free; unfettered
by bureaucracy and materialism.
Laughing as we worldly souls
trudge unceasingly in the quicksand
of mediocrity, eyes down, vision
tunneled as we struggle
towards the light, weighed down
by our mortal baggage.
Laughing as in death's waiting room
we are forced to check it in
and we leave as we came; empty handed.
We talked, we knew the secret;
that the spirit holds the riches
not the things that we possess.
'Tis the soul that prospers
as it flies, expanding into eternity.
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