Early Works - Restlessness
D
David Harris
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As I walk through a place of rest
in morbid solitude,
a chill goes down my spine
for an answer I must find.
In front of me lies a closed grave,
on the tombstone my name is paved.
Am I dead,
am I a lost soul
cast into an eternal hell
of restless beings
with no shape or form
to call our own.
Or is it just a dream
of what will happen to me
I cannot tell.
Is this my place after death
to live in the restlessness
outside the gates of hell?
Date unknown (probably the late 1960’s)
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