The Curbed Limbo
Neither the flowers bloom,
Nor even the tiniest of birds tweet,
When a man of noble sight,
Blue-blooded with lordly might,
Sleeps his last sleep,
Leaving everyone but to weep.
And the soul…
The eternal soul itself wades
Away in the nature’s pall,
And gets lost in the earthy shades,
Before the curtains of time fall.
Men,
Some big and some too small,
But it doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter at all,
For all do fear, you and I,
As not to get lost like tears when the clouds cry.
Neither in the farthest spaces of hearts,
Which I ascended past they eclipsed,
Nor in minds, not in stars,
Could I afford to be dis-remembered and pissed.
But now,
Now with changing shades of time,
Little do I worry.
‘Cause Limbo is never a must,
But the choice still remains,
Open in ourselves and in our worthy deeds.
As to who you are and what you seek,
And what you sow and what you reap.
And when the one be that tall but leaves,
This heaven guarded by the stars,
Still lives his worthy works,
And so shall you and I,
And to bring them back, the destiny lurks,
For good souls never die.