Leaves drift across an expanse of land,

Green, bespeckled with gray stones.

Here is where the weary rest and where

All men go in the end.

Some are adorned with flowers,

While others remain bare, collecting dust.

Families weep over broken memories,

While others paste on façades of detachment.

The final end,

The resting place,

Where kings and beggars lay,

And finally arrive, somehow, in God’s embrace.

Where kings, queens, beggars, and thieves,

Lay forever to rot.



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