Fallen78

I asked a question of the ground And found the answer in a cloud Still I have to wonder why My heart can not yet reach the sky. Upon that wind I echoed thoughts Of love and death and feeling lost Some comfort spoke within the trees- My soul felt bent with rustled leaves. When we die do we diffuse Into earthen, speckled hues Of mottled blue and sheltered green Or are there colors never seen? There must be something past this shell But I refuse to dwell on hell: I'll seek the skies and roaring waves I'll choose the world as my grave.