The Child of the Cemetery
The Child of the Cemetery
In a large and beautiful antique cemetery lives a child
A young girl, I saw a few times during lonely walks
She just looked and looked at me, a stranger visitor
She stood there, beside a grave, and silently watched me
and watched. Snow-white face, sky-blue eyes, long blonde hair,
long white dress. “I am the daughter of this cemetery.”
She said it one time
then she slowly turned around and walked into the deep
of this so magnetic graveyard. She reached a huge crypt,
disappeared, and became nothing. There is no door
on the old mausoleum
“She is our daughter, our daughter, our daughter…”
I have just heard many, many other worthy voices
from everywhere, from the deep, from the graves
Now there was an unbelievingly cold silence,
not even the leaves rustled.
Hmm. Walk, walk, thinking, contemplating, meditating
Can the dead have children? How?
“Yes, it is possible.” A deep, friendly voice spoke.
“Dead are lives, and their collective mind and will
more powerful than that of mortal living people
because the world of the dead is not limited
by the disciplines of the physical word.” Said the voice
Life here, life there
On this side and the other side
Live here, live there
Where?
I want to try the other side too
So this life is the prelife
for the afterlife
Then where is the only life?
“Up!” Said the Daughter of the Afterlife.
Copyright © Vilmos Zoltan Galyo | Year Posted 2025
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