Now That You Are Dead Poem by james watkin
Now That You Are Dead
In mind there's no ground to things;
All is sky-like country.
Its stretch of world-facets are its
Self-made reality.
A devil, of buddhist masking
Each errant though assumes.
Heaven's guide, be assured, your own
Angel's nature illumes.
Tuesday, October 22, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: death
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9/18/2024 4:07:15 PM # 1.0.0.1119
