When we pass and the grave remains empty (Sonnet I)
When we pass and the grave remains empty.
Silence seems to confuse roles and domains.
Many fear the outcome of cold frailty.
After decease pauses regretful brains.
Time demands grief to men who enjoy shade.
Though it’s wrong to only have faith in wind.
Loneliness strengthens a need for brigades.
And it’s harmful to only plan for ends.
But light is blind if always mistaken.
For betrothed trees in dim, grotesque places.
Deities cannot forge what is broken.
Nor intertwine vast and cultured spaces.
Dream to sooth, but please remember good sense.
Sanity is strong, inside present tense.
Robert Alexander Deason Peace
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