"A trip to the Grave"

"A trip to the Grave"

A picture-poem

All is but silent and solemn in those hollowed grounds
As everyone visits their loved ones buried in those sacred mounds
If not trying to reflect with all their memories from those graves
And marred by nightmares called truths crying to be saved

Quite nice to see others with all their flowers
Candles and snacks to be with their departed others
As they're reminiscing cherished memories
That sometimes almost forgotten like old melodies

While on the other side with all their final grief
As the casket of their loved one whom with the lord to meet
Be buried along with flowers strewn in a six feet under pit
Like all the othets rested waiting for the final feat.

And here I am, along with strangers
Looking at the graves of these buried earthlings
Died whether in peace or in pain
While their families and friends offering flowers and candles
Incenses whose scent fills the hollowed place again

And as I stood up from where he sat,
Seeking their advices as he enters their abode
Where life is all but an analog mode
There are no routers full of wireless fidelity
Just me, them, and the almighty
With prayers if not reflections
Enough to redeem from thy delusions.

There to mourn, to remember, to think, and reflect,
Knowing that time comes they will resurrect;
And I, trying to be at peace is asking on these silent ones:
That will hopes be true when the lord comes?