Infinite are the number of fools

beneath one’s dignity…

when one is prone to see only

themselves in the mirror,

the dreams hold truth so somber

and united in this void…

this vacuum… the stage imagined

as real as sudden horror,

‘She lies here,’ told us by the grave

marker used of stone,

finality displaced… no more to live

in eternal light of grace,

there is only now to frolic in and

gain the favors of a smile…

grown to hate and fear in this life-

to oppose the Lord’s face.

What fate awaits you… the grave or eternal bliss? The marker of stone can read ‘He’ or ‘She’ equally well.

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