Epitaph

Tie a bow around my life

And scribe it in a package

Say kind lies

And make sense of my life

He was honest--mostly

He was kind--sometimes

He was brave--in company

He was helpful in reminding

Just how much he had forgiven your design

He loved and lost

And learned life’s hidden cost

He tried to find the order in the chaos

He tried to find the justice hidden in the rule of chance

He tried to find the love amongst the sentient

He tried to find the rhythm in the silence of the dance

Who will tell a story with no moral

Who will buy a book without a happy ever after

Who will judge the outcome of the quarrel

Between right and wrong without breaking ‘to laughter

Each day drives me far from resolution

Each breath draws me further into need

Each beat pounds the nail of my confusion

Deeper ever deeper under skin each thought I bleed

Who will make summation--I am clueless

Who will write the ending when my life’s so over done

Leaves me with more questions then I had when I began

And I was young

Expound and you diminished

The gristle, bone, and sinew

Etched upon the headstone of a soul left so unfinished

Fell the words, “To be continued. . .”