THE TOMB:

Prone, lying within my final tomb,

Ensconced in earth´s warm dark womb,

This serene, quiet place, my final bed,

Where at last I can lay my wary head.

Upon my stone, a single raven´s plume,

Upon night´s mantle, plaintive owl´s tune,

Wrapped in robe of clay´s wet soggy sod,

 Asleep, embracing hand´s last tossed clod.

And from where I once had sadly sat,

Now only flies the lonely, twilight bat,

I plead, you don´t in this place stay,

Where you daily come to kneel & pray.

Although you say I´m sorely missed,

I´m now gone in time´s gossamer mist,

In the place where once I used to bleed,

There now grows a new tender seed.

I have returned to my home the earth,

Where it starts again some-day in birth,

Prone, lying within my final tomb,

Ensconced in earth´s warm dark womb.