Death Is Not The End But The Whole. Poem by Bryan Sefton

Death Is Not The End But The Whole.



A dust mote of me hanging in bright sunlight
The Everyman idea of sublime divine heaven
Discharged of all weight of mass or consequence
How much of me can be lost until pure essence
Reduces me to my final atom of consciousness?
Inverse gleaning taking me down
Behold the current me in my totality
Able to pick my place in the great play
I sing in the spectrum of sunlight
Hide in the silence in the corner of night
I rage in the fury of explosion
I am included in the music of the spheres
I am the big bangs child
From the daddy of all bell towers I am the truth
What you see is what you get
The rest of me, the cave, the cushion, the harbour
Built to protect, not needed now
Now I am safest in my least
Nothing containing and nothing contained
Apart and a part
Still, illusions whisper within
On the facet of a diamond
In the glitter of gold
Surrounded by all this wealth
I tend to cling,

Sunday, June 21, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: death,perfection
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Bryan Sefton

Farnsworth near Bolton, England, UK
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