On A Journey Poem by Gerry Legister

I go to bed with book in hand,
Falling suffer-able as dead,
Perfect life is deliberately abandon,
Absent from thought the mind fled,
Upon a journey spiraling into poetry.

A dream in greater silence rush by,
Without ruffling the timid night,
The dead will not hear the glaze cry,
In sleep we see things in clearer light,
Music and poetry of infinite bliss.

Going on a journey into afterlife,
We didn't believe until the impact,
Made us look for the living gift,
We possess in moods more optimistic,
Bliss with the abundance of mystery.

On this journey I see the blissful flame,
Burning brighter and spreading rapidly,
Like poetry overwhelm the mist of heaven,
Reach out to others and feel loves infinity,
In boughs of peaceful bliss.