Between life and between Death
there is a place before we rest
a solitary fountain of nothing but peace
many find it binding
I find it blinding
colors of blue rushing down bales of rivers
the purest of white filling the star lit night
and greens deep tinged to the grass the time in between seems to last for all eternity

A graceful place before our rest
whose trees hold the sky
and the clouds stay afloat by branches
keeping to your watch from afar
as the branches get closer
so do the numbers their hand can count
and by the time they reach out for your hand
you notice the fruits it hands to you

Each end of the river 
holds a door to either side
one door is golden
while the other is brown
the current flows seemingly in your favor
and you must choose which way to follow
to those who see gold
will find eternity
and to those who see brown
will soon see an enemy

for this moment we find in solitude
not out lives but where out lives will be going
much like the eye of a storm
we find,
rest.