Death’s Unfettered Mercy
Tis in this garden of the dead,
My pacing figure roves,
A church yard in desuetude,
In sullen, misty groves.
Throughout this graveyard strangers lie—
I’m seeking out their peace,
Aspiring to what they have gained;
A deathly soft release.
The veil of death, a mystery,
That with my presence glows;
Encouraging my sense of calm—
Endurance it bestows.
My longing for a home like theirs!
The angels poised in stone,
Their reverential stalwartness,
Displayed for me alone.
The grass in dampness from the dew,
My breath in smoky haze,
The musing of my solemn soul,
At sundry bygone days.
The stillness of the central sea;
Primordial and vast,
Envelops every step I take—
In contemplation cast.
I yearn for death’s embrace, I say,
And hunger for the grave,
Since Christ above can’t rouse a love,
That’s bright enough to save…
AD Lovkis, 09/08/25
adamdaniel 