Write Upon My Stone

©2015, Olan L. Smith

Wind sweeping dust into swirls depositing layers

Upon my grave, and I hear not a sound

Six feet under, for I am not on this world torn

Asunder by the flex and wane of time immortal,

Which justly empowers the disembodied.  What is waxes,

What was waxes more―it remains unseen to temporal

Eyes, which seek not the continuum of knowledge.

Why are those living unknowing?  Why seek

In cold soils where only bones lie buried?  Write

On my stone, "Seek me in the stars."  Search for me

In the stillness of the night sky, and watch as

My light flickers.  Who knows more, the living or the dead?

A/N The above digital painting is my study of a crayon drawing the Picasso did while on his death bed. He titled it "Death Mask".