Ashes for Ashes, Dust for Dust…

With the flute of death
Playing solemnly
To the feet
Set in the day-light
Rays of the moon

Riches, nay riches
Cannot save the songs
Passing through
The ears of the sleepy mind
With the touch of prickling stick

The slow dance
Coupling the young
And the old on the stage
With smiles and mild tears
Bring a sore bread
To the table of sleep

Ashes, all ashes
Dust, yes dust
For the heart
Weaved with linen
Would tear forth
Without hold
What lies in the beauty
Sowed with the heart
Is all that remains..

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About Michael Ogundele

A writer, ardent reader and lover of nature. fell in love with writing five years back and I've been engraved in her arms ever since. I share my little way of writing poetry and reflections based on Catholic faith and Spirituality on this space. I hope you enjoy reading as we ride the same chariot to the leafy greens. Do follow me and together, let us jump into the ocean of my ink.
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