The spirits wake me from my "death-like" sleep,
It is my soul they wish to keep.
These visions, these spectres from the past,
Have found their future in death at last.
And soon I will join them in the world beyond,
To find everlasting peace in this final bond.
For death is but the end of all strife,
And the souls beginning in a new found life.
A Gentle Goodbye
The essence of spring no longer fills me with the ecstasy of life,
The lake no longer reflects the soft images of spring, only blackness lies therein.
Voices in the wind call to me and say it is time, time to become "one" with the universe.
I will be all things. I will be the earth, the air, the mountain stream.
The willow tree will softly weep for me and whisper my name to the wind.
(No, I'm not planning to "go" though the poems were written years ago during a "black period" I was going through). All is well now. Plus, I
always liked Sylvia Plath (sp) works as well as Poe but also Robert Frost for balance.