Last night

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  • Death

    Last night

    I have witnessed something;
    In heavens above, on earth below.
    life can be authentic except it's not.

    There is a cliff awaiting me;
    comforts me to grasp the stars,
    giving me serenity.

    I seek no one as I
    Glance at my past so quick.
    Is there a Spirit watching me
    at this edge of the world.?

    Will my footprints remain
    And breath be taken
    by the breeze.?

    As the stars show; the
    spectacle is a miracle.
    The universe glimpsed me there.

    Near me the clouds stirring;
    Above me bliss; under me
    no more sorrow.

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    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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