Last week's AOWL Verse : "The Innumerable Caravan"

[IamBenT]

Posted for those not already in the AOWL, just for a few more feeds.

This doesn’t go through the whole instrumental, but if you spit it you will perhaps feel what I felt. Sometimes its quick sometimes Its slow, might turn it into an audio after the battle so yall know.

Written to this beat, start at 0:13 :





And as you speak to Nature, whisper discreet or scream in disfavor,
You see and savor each tree and leaf, sky to deepest sea glacier
She is a beacon of sweet flavors in your gleeful behavior,
But when Death becomes your neighbor, her sympathy is a savior
The remedy and erasure of thoughts -- trapped in your last minutes
Witness gasps of lapsed living, lungs collapse into cracked ribbons,
Your bashed spirit escapes -- into open space from a broken face
Which heavy tears from steady years of shame hold in place…
That’s when Nature will teach you, her voice a vapor to reach you
Take solace in this bliss before Fate takes and deletes you—
Makes you an equal to rocks, clods, and sod underneath you
As roots of a tree shoot , claw, prod your plot, rotting and peaceful
There isn’t a sequel…but trust, you’re not headed alone
To that deadened hole, cold as bones beneath letters in stone
Better comfort has never been known, for you will rest with kings
Your deathbed is fest-er-ing with those who died with the best of things
Men blessed and ringed, with power, purpose, and high position
The mighty celestials sing! This Hour’s perfect for my decision
Magnificent visions of meadows glistening amidst rivers
Hills all a-glitter, slithering -- dusk delivering slivers
Of light, bright as the minds of the ancient sages, who throughout the ages
Blazed a million pages, trying to say what you are faced with--
DEATH in all its stages, and Nature the last decorations
For you and the many dead, lying underneath the steady tread
Of the living who will join you when THEIR time, now ebbing, ends.
Your petty friends, some will rejoice in the face of your corpse,
Some will break and be sore, while others fake their support
Each one, chasing his sport, illusions made to distort
The blatant report that Death is clearly waiting in store
Building his train in this morgue, of every make and each sort,
From young babes to gray maids, hung saints to great braves
Death’s slung blades scathe spades of unsaved in dismayed waves
So LIVE! Knowing full well what company waits
And go not, ugly with hate, into the grave, stumbling gait,
Grumbling pate and in crumbling shape, mumbling “Wait!”
Hoping a sudden delay will put a stop to this numbing mistake—
Instead, be humbly elated, grateful and glad that you made it
You drank from the chalice of life, now leave it, lovely and sated,
Not hungry, deflated, but draping your final couch about you..
To dream with kings and queens, and see if now you’ve found profound truth…
That all around you.. amidst the insuperable, barren land
Will stand, death-gathered, the innumerable caravan…


------------------------------------------------------

Kinda long, my bad about that. Appreciate any and all feed and will gladly feed back