ISLANDER
He made his way out of this world,
hear this, watching May subside
and wither; but he shall last forever.
(Death has no appointment here, is but
a substance there, and fading).
April was his only foe - a nemesis to
be avoided. Spring sometimes sweeps
its swallow-wings aside to fly and flee,
and April passes on. His shadow too lies
buried now - beneath a damp and darkened
mound of mossy green earth, beneath a mourning
light, beneath too a sunrise of strengthening sun,
beneath the old, arriving one who motions to our
lives too to pass (depart) for Death.
Beneath that shadow ever black and dark,
renew us, Spirit, Vigor, May; relate us there
to soon recall our days as spent (in anger, hate,
or rage) - as passed, as vain contentment.
Come anew, and enter.
(He made his way out
of this world).
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