A heartbroken soul in the afterlife ponders love’s enduring power.
Said the Tombstone,
“Welcome to the land of rest,
Where merry the insects hum.
Welcome to life other,
New sounds, new weather.
Welcome, Creature of Clay,
Adieu to your world of play.
Why are you today so sad?
Why feel today so bad?
Share with me your plight,
Your pain may become light.”
Replied the Corpse,
“I cry for my dear,
For her sanity I fear.
When in love,
Separation we buried,
When we separated,
I lay here buried.
What would be her state now?
Her nights: She spends how?
I gave her
A mountain of love,
Nay, in reality:
Pain, sky-high.
Then she cared a lot,
Now she can’t do a bit.
How to apprise of my state,
To not keep her awake late?”
Said the Tombstone,
“You cry for her pain,
Indeed this is in vain.
She cries of her love-loss,
Her solitude: her business.
She is lost in her sad state:
Cares not if you drank or ate.
Her pain or joy is the same:
No difference in the life-game.
You lived with her
For decades, six or more,
You shall lie beneath
For hundreds of years.
Who then is your true ally:
I or she – Realize, be not shy.”
Replied the Corpse,
“Your logic is indeed sound,
Yet hope’s rosary I count.
Love is not
In selfish soil sown,
Its reach is beyond
Worlds known.
I care not
If she cares,
As long as I live
In her prayers.”
Jan 26 2011. Edit March 2024
