Transitions

Each a different soul, yet all so similar huh?

Like mere babies burdened with a lifetime’s memories

(Not that it's not true, I guess)

Is that why they cry

When they see the light on the other end?

But, well, not all make it through though…

Deciders of their fate, both in life and death

They are the actual guides, though we never tell them that

Me, and Death, the same old spectators;

We’re just here for company mate

Companions, just to drive away the

Loneliness of this transition perhaps

Death has it easier at times though

Crossing these waters of the fallen,

The whispers and wails seep through

They seep right through my old boards

Their psyche

Can get so surprisingly chaotic

Even though sitting on their

Placid, confused faces,

It’s often just a heavy silence

….

All, they all come with such curiosity

Yet a hazy daze is all that remains…

Oh, hey! Welcome aboard

Death is a bit late perhaps… they’re on the way don’t you worry

We can’t really leave without our guide, right?

So please sit and wait for a while, will you?