Thursday, February 25, 2016

The Dead Are Unaware

How much do we sacrifice
To give back to life
And our kin
Some live without fear
Others bear the weight
Of their tribe
Everyone endures their share
But not everyone finds victory
A life might have been without hope
It might have been painful
Even a nightmare
But in the end
All of the dead sleep
They need no permission
To lay where they do
They are not yet in Elysium
However much they might desire
Instead they sleep without care
Over the cost of this life
Their soul's thought
The flesh decays
The body turns to dust
The dead are unaware
Of the toll of existence
Who will pay the ferryman
To carry me to shore so distant
Who will judge this life
When my hopes
Dreams were so brilliant
However unfulfilled

“Unbeing dead isn't being alive.” ee cummings