In Days, Spirit-Realized Poem by james watkin
In Days, Spirit-Realized
When to cater for the cold thing
The dead's treasuring, is held
The last, life-staged, of rites buried
Then vultures will be compelled
On nearest high rocks to scramble
For what resounds from a clan:
"These relics but reminders are
Of Time's triumph over man".
Sunday, November 17, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: death,spirit
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8/6/2025 4:33:24 PM # 1.0.0
