In the hush of twilight’s somber end,
Where shadows merge and contours bend,
An open grave does not incite fear,
But marks a journey to a realm so near.
Within the grasp of earth’s cold arms,
Beyond alarm or dire alarms,
This gothic scene of time and bone,
Unveils a truth to us well known.
For every dusk that veils the sky,
Is to the dawn a kindred tie,
And every life that we embark,
Begins with pulse, a vital spark.
The heart, it beats a rhythmic hymn,
A force that flows through life and limb,
It carries on with love’s insistence,
Defying time, denying distance.
Each bone that rests in silence deep,
Is not forgotten, nor does it sleep.
It speaks a language, old and sage,
Of life’s complete and storied page.
This circle, full, from birth to grave,
A narrative of the brave,
Speaks not of end, but of a blend,
Of legacies that never end.
So fear not the open grave’s dark maw,
For it complies with nature’s law.
A passage through the shadow’s veil,
A voyage set with spirit’s sail.
Embrace the cycle, ever true,
This voyage from the old to new.
For in our essence, pure and whole,
Lies the immortal human soul.