Beyond Death

that death should come
like a thief in the night
flying off the souls
before dawn light

That man should grieve
for their dearly departed
never knowing the destinations...
to be anointed or to burn

deathland indeed is of imagining
will it be Elysian fields
or the sombre halls of purgatory
perhaps fluffy clouds and golden harps

Although I wish my deathland
will be of my dreamland
a small cabin in the woods
of perpetual autumn
before a lake with blossoming hyacinths.



*this poem was entered in a competition. Thank you for reading.*