Spiritualist Dance
Knowing death will come
Does not assuage its pain,
Knowing life is done
Does not erase the same.
Certain gaps remain
Defined by breathless air,
Whiffs of the cremain
Lingering, longing there.
Come upon by chance
"A goose stepped on my grave,"
Did its holy dance
Unseen but by the brave.
Knowing in advance
Does not negate the grave,
Spirit has its prance
The life it after craves.
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