Grievous is the sight of a wilted rose
Fallen pedals lay at root’s feet
A graveyard of beauty faded,
headstones upon rows and rows.
Waning memories sprawled across Earth’s canvas
An army of life left to bear the weight.

No soul can escape the cycle we see
Paper doves fold into themselves,
left to sit flat and bare.

Yet before the loss settles,
Angels dive from the heavens
and hitch a ride on momentary whirlwinds
Conjured up by hearts of days gone.

On single saved breaths,
they whisper words of reassurance
With lips pressed to ear
So that their message will resonate
with booming notes of song,
reflective of their gravity.

Alluding to a plane of existence beyond the cycle
An existence not to be seen but felt
and known in absoluteness.

For tomorrow and the day next,
I forecast hoards of gray clouds,
intent on conquest of light.

But they can only hope to cover heaven’s beams for a time
For light is everlasting,
As echoes of love ones passed scatter
across the sky in loving luminescence.

Driven by an undying connection,
Souls of the departed lock arms
to hug and shield.