A certain intangible
Remains to be unseen.
Too fast or, perhaps, too slow,
The want of spirit keen:
Eternal is the word -
That promise it assured.
Can more be sought to aid these woes?

Eternal is illusion:
A pond, upon obtrusion,
May try maintain its steady shape
But in the wake there lies
The high, the low inside
To permeate, disrupt, create:
Of what is made eternity
That's more than lack'd vitality?

The Graveyard is empty;
Grass sings thoughts
over fresh earth,
Upon no ears

They were there weren’t they?

The Graveyard is empty:
Stone roars silence,
Eyes see by being seen -
Pitch black is the end

Were there none for me?

The Graveyard is empty;
Thoughts are thoughts,
Words are words,
Action is dead

The Graveyard is empty

Words like rivers flow
They lull
lilies lavish their petals
Ornamenting cerulean streams with streaks of white
Hiding the mud below

What words are these
That hide degraded banks?
What words are these
That salty rivers may run?
What words are these
That sunlight in your smile
May paint away your worries?

Several shores tried claim you
But you are lost
Deserted on land
Alone but refusing company

Waters brought you hence
Waters will bear you away
But what words are these
that made you leave our hearts?