Analysis of Grave Matters

Grave matters
COUGHIN one brings to the fro a life explored
6 feet deep, space it is a relief?, release or no peace?
Above their stand people who look on with grief.
Words spoken from parchment of ODES read by a priest
Who knew not what was told
He knew not the one now found home in the ground
Vision of dark that's around not only those who grieve but he the world did leave.

The question be will I be skyward released for my sins condemn
Me to a place in which only darkness and pain reign?
Times untold the words of a shadow who did not know.
What did I not grasp?
Straws, cups, plates did I eat the meal of a good day?
A day coming gone all too short to descend it is all too late.
Midnight begins the rise of shadows face
ONE, TWO, THREE in the morn - in the dark one cannot see feel all to unreal.
With dawn - is this a dawn have new grace?
Brought to the new life just beyond nights grasp
Learn from the darkness of the night
The night is darkness-but all too many shadows fall because there is no light found within
By mid morn, time has been written to that told
Look not at sorcerer tales of who, here not a word of no return
Distance now from darkness that did unfold an ode written in words of a life's disgrace
Expected more, travel a past all too often nothing able to replace
Learned ignorance once is the plight of those who take light
Up, up one goes, does nothingness tell a tale to be told?
In the grave is one's soul, of hold, open to reality of light.
Arming oneself with little toys played in yards known only in disgrace.
TWO become one lost interior given to each one, between a world of escape from that
Darkness that clouds hide shadows joun
The plot not told is not for called grave to fools who dance to the tune of the dissent into the ground.
Hands on the deck-shift sail to parts unknown
Wave after wave grief is the cry
Hope to reach the sky
Spinning and sewing does your quilt cover the dead?
Untruths often told lifes freedom put on hold.
Jackets that are straight bind a life reaching death’s gate
Images of times past more fully in the mind of the one consumed by a race lost in place
Many ways to speak words of nothing but nothingness told to that who stand
At the box descending into sand
Making castles made out of sand the ocean tide rushes into cover ones ground to the others below
Fingers that no longer bring food sustinence sought to find a broken heart
Down, down does to descend the food taken at the very end
Does one bite, chew or spew that have ones time?
As evening moves in another darkness engaged to a mind home in the grave.
No children to behold-disintegration untold-parts consumed by bugs of times lived in the darkness
Conceived in ones mind.
Distance from that of midnight did start
How far from darkness only to descend into a different darkness close in the ground.
Shadows of relations conceived either grief or fear on their own and face
“When will I begin to cough”?