The dead speak

Listening to the words of a dead man
He is speaking of death
Remembering that all men die
We are dust and will return to dust

Remembering that faith celebrates death
Seeing death as more meaningful than birth
Remembering the words of a dear friend
He spoke his love to them as he remembered them to others

Still listening to the dead
Meditating on their words
Taking in all that they have offered the world
So much of life seems a monument to times past

More time is devoted to the dead than the living
The hands that built the house where I live
The minds that wrote those books that I read
My thoughts and habits are guided by those who died

The mind continues to hear the dead speak of death
One dead man points out that nearly everyone has died
That we should hear them speaking is no strange thing
They are the giants on who’s shoulders we stand

Faith tells me that life has meaning
Sometimes faith has failed
Everything seemed futile
Desperation instead of hope for motivation

Sometimes one wonders how to find meaning
It is true that all we have is relationships
All other things must be left behind
The heart breaks to consider how these can fail

Tomorrow comes whether we await it in hope or despair
The evening comes whether the day was celebrated or regretted
The sun rises and sets whether or not I am there to watch it
The world is bigger than the monuments we build

The dead man continues to speak
The heart can hear and understand the words

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