The world ends for many each passing day
An end, All, with less suffering, do pray;
Given to life expression in every which way,
Knowing one’s breath, the last toll to pay.
Solace is given by those who remain;
Left to relinquish lingering emotional pain;
Imploring forgiveness for each living stain;
Given to glory: remembrance to a dying name.
Time’s passage erodes any presence made;
Etchings material, weathered, eventually do fade;
Forever lost beneath the gravedigger’s spade;
Fields of granite stone, the sole witness to life once played.
naykdpoet 
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