We all walk through our symbolic cemetaries.
Passing each etched stone remembering the past.
Swallowing our tears row by row.
We fight the battle of our impulses.
Loosing grip, slipping to our knees as we pass the name.
What is in that name, a dream, a hope, a life.
Listen to the drops hit the stone.
Glistening sunlight reflects off the slow falling mist.
A soothing rain in this symbolic cemetary.
Off dark and light, gray clouds and blue sky.
Grief or joy, you remember the lost past.
Only to look up from the stone, to the path out.
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Just something I had been working on this week. It’s been raining so much, and on my drive from San Diego to Pomona yesterday symbolic cemetary popped into my head. It is so meaningful on so many levels. So I put a little something together. Comments your throughts are appreciated.
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