No Shadow Moving, None At All Poem by Dennis Lange

Those eyes have made their final curtain call;
The lungs have lost their zest, no treasure in the chest.
There is no shadow moving on the wall.

One's spun away from this blue spinning ball.
Another life's confessed that it was just a guest.
Those eyes have made their final curtain call.

The hands have lost their magic: wave and scrawl.
Like folded wings they're pressed... against the rigid vest.
There is no shadow moving on the wall.

The sun will light the length of ev'ry hall
And make each eye its nest. One pair won't be possessed.
Those eyes have made their final curtain call.

Upon the living, darkness casts its pall.
For some souls it's the best - it's death in which they're blest.
But there's no shadow moving on the wall.

To bridge the gulf, none has the wherewithal.
That heart is now at rest; mine breaks within my breast.
Those eyes have made their final curtain call.
There is no shadow moving on the wall.