Death Is Just But A Beginning Poem by Wolf the poet

This earth is not my home
I am going to die with form
And smell our native soil loam
My body hence will mold into foam
And ring the death bells with tom

I will rise again
Join my brethren
Who went to the grave before me
I am going to glance at my granny
Embrace her, hold her hand
And whisper to her "I am home"

Our sins will betray
Our souls as we pray
And like eggs in a tray
We will cry and fray in every way known to man