Spirited winter shadows,
silhouettes loosed and unencumbered.
In the rising light they joyfully play
Granted life, just once in each new day.
Black in the midst of golden vapours
Creatively dancing forest capers.
Each and every one, animated by the sun.

We all will be memories one day...
buried or cremated...
as times do change
those buried now
we know don't attend
others funerals in return
yet take up a chunk of land
lots of timber to burn
now electric cremation
is awesome
and
marble for those
who love to be buried....
Just for a day’s visit
every one year
so tis better to be cremated
save the vast lands and woods
and
all memories are the same
in burial or ashes
But it’s a known fact
that all will go

Death left a void
and filled it with ingredients of sadness,
the tears of a mourning mother,
the ceasing of joy and laughter,
the calmness forsaken in the moment,
as the air greets respectful silence,
one last goodbye denied,
in the sudden end of lite.

Yet the worst I fear
is to be a memory,
buried underground.

While my legacy of love,
peeled away from beating hearts

I linger
lovingly
on each bead

Nothing between
the bead and touch
No time, no space
no contamination
no taint

The delicate membrane
which separates
turns into thin blue
smoke
and disappears

At the confluence
of space and time
journey and arrival
I imbibe the essence
of being and becoming