When I die…: A poem 

Today, the wind is only a soft dewy petal 

gracing an awesome blossom, not metal 

Hope is horizon’s pasture, would I forsake? 

The bridge of strong stone across the lake 

This life is a flame, not a fume; cannot blame 

The sorrow of today is not tomorrow’s shame 

The apron of saffron clothes Fortune’s Dame 

when love is in treasures of sacrifice not tame 

And each moment that seems grey is only fair 

The talisman of virtue be what one does wear 

Exemplary are the ones who chose to share 

their poverty and humility; their spirit didn’t tear 

And I had tears often, but did not ask fate: why? 

Death made a bed for Dad, and I admit I did cry 

And autumn took Mum, leaving grief in my eye 

But I know I’ll leave with a smile whenever I die 

Published by montecyril

Hi, I am Monte Cyril Rodrigues and live in Melbourne, Australia. I am a retired journalist. I have been diagnosed with schizophrenia. I've had voices and visions all my life. I think it is a spiritual experience, my doctors think otherwise. I am a deeply spiritual person and keep having experiences with otherworldly realms.

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