The Poem Must Go On
B
Bill Cantrell
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There exists a poem,
we hear just before death
Departing in silence,
upon our last breath
Each one is customized,
unique to their needs
Pole bearers are endorphins,
preparing release
A book judged by its cover?
Often not what it seems
Yet, knowing the author,
the dead wait patiently
A dream within a dream,
is when galaxies collide
Death rearranged,
brings back life in good time
Then our poem shall continue
with the returning of life,
as death will be slaughtered,
as the truth wins the fight
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