To Rest
By soulful
To Rest She sleeps in a little windswept Graveyard on a hill. Next to strangers never met in life. But she lives on in the fabric of the many lives she cherished and I believe enobled. And with something more than a wistful longing I believe that she lives and works in another of the far flung empires over which the Creator rules It is in the dimension of that empire that grief comes tremutously to rest. Written April 19th, 2002 © on Apr 19 2002 11:57 AM PST 0 • 1
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"To Rest..."