Monday, July 11, 2016

The Real Fergus or Life After Death

Fergus was a man not
Many men mentioned
Alive was he
For a spotted spell
Winding his curses
Behind cemetery lots
 All Filled with
Wasted wanderers
Left empty beside the road

 From the moment they departed
They climbed through the portal
Not worried or rushed any longer
But Alive in movement
The same as before
But different now
Larger more secure
Welcomed in warmth
They were watched as
Favored actors
In a favored play
On the lighted stage
So smoothly
Like large swans
Across the lake
Wings folded close
Riding a current
No one could see