Listening To Whispers Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Trudging quickly through fields of bluened flowers,
sending me into gates of heavenly aromas, as I feel
lifted spiritually into realms of existent prayer,
soulfully being elated with a joy not of this earth.
Trying on all avenues of beauty to find one that fits
my mood of undelectable sorrow.
Judging from minors of yesterday, I calmly reminisce
of those times that no longer fit me.
Sojournly finding pathways, leading me farther into
deepened ebony forests.
Hiding me forever beneath dead leaves and branches of
eternal rest in death.
Covering me at last so I may disappear and never be
found again.
Listening to whispers beyond what I can hear on earth
now and forevermore.