MERRY AT THE WAKE

Countless graveyards remain rich, 

Rich in the remains of great men;

A people unled, songs unsung, books unwritten.

Trash bags house the ashes of cremated dreams.
Men surely live on, all dreams don’t.

Awakened by the ghosts of empty biographies, emptied I must leave.

“It is finished” on the tombstone.

A purpose fulfilled life, Lord I seek merry at the wake.

Nhemy.

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