Its a funeral alive with abandoned sentiments with a casket brimming with deadened flowers, distantly reminiscent of fuller days, but life is often ever whole. The wind cant help but sway with a morbid sense of urgency, haunting the very essence of my being. The cold marble reflects stray tears, casual calamity engraved into the stone and the disastrous turbulence of familiar souls so evidently pressed into the soil.
The stray leaves represent the forgetting nature of man. How natural it is to get lost into the bright tempting world, the emotional turmoil only lasts for so long and then the basic instinct dominates. Mankind can be so conceited sometimes, it’s hard to sympathize with them as they live. it’s easier to make one mind when they are nothing but one with the soil.
The very earth they’re made from and the same dirt they are reduced to.
There’s a fine line between selfless and helpless and in front of a grave, the line blurs into nothing. The unliving are nothing but humble and that’s what makes them better. The morbidity is purely our own perspective for graveyards represent nothing but the true celebrations of a lifetime.