some
float
up
slowly
the wind taking his hair
the wind blowing through him
skin and bone
the wind whistling through his teeth
some ride into the abyss
some are bounded
to cling to the earth,
rock and soil
some hang on to the edge
some ride the wild wind
into the Abyss
some see the river and fish
some rise up
when the lonely one asks for the them
does the abyss wait for you,
or did an angel come for you, brother
and if the earth is but a grain of sand
in the vastness of all the grains of sand
on all the beaches of an unfolding soul
drifting into the ripples of time,
I need to know, Lord?
the box
my brother on the dining room table.
ashes and memories.