When people die we sleep in graves—
Where do memories go when they die?
To the same place where broken dreams go?
Where the sky is dark:
no up, no down, no before, no after?
To the land of could-have-beens,
Where lost souls wander, where the deathless cry?
Or to a land beneath a lilac sky,
To some sweet place in a far green country,
by a river at the edge of night?
Where the crownless are king,
And the wingless fly?
Apr 20, 2019
Apr 20, 2019 at 6:22 PM UTC
When people die we sleep in graves—
Where do memories go when they die?
To the same place where broken dreams go?
Where the sky is dark:
no up, no down, no before, no after?
To the land of could-have-beens,
Where lost souls wander, where the deathless cry?
Or to a land beneath a lilac sky,
To some sweet place in a far green country,
by a river at the edge of night?
Where the crownless are king,
And the wingless fly?
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