Not Long Enough Be Death

under the lych-gate shall I pass before the wait in holding hands for the robed man of God to steer me to my resting days and shall I then be added to the sanded brick of grotesque face that stares across the standing stones to look beyond the yew and those who sidle in the rain with shoulders loaded down with strife will keep their head and eye to ground and unaware of mine then as I learn such higher ways and freedom casts me from its stone so will I then bargain forth and leave the world behind now in the realm I find myself among ancestral light and warmth the pain and heaviness has gone and I begin to shine then glow do I a little more in understanding what has been while bathed in voice of honey tone and stole for my return