In tombs reside no memories, Only rotting empty shells. Though all is dead, life is at ease. There are no Heavens and no Hells. The restless tortured frames of words And all the anger they beget, Inside the crypt they sound absurd, They are replaced by deep regret. None will rise to greet you there Only ashes of the past. The peace of death can’t be compared, For it commences with a flash. Once the dying march has stopped And the dying tears are gone. All melancholy signs are dropped And the final sleep goes on. In the tomb there only rests The last possessions of some soul. It is their lives that made ours blessed. The body merely made them whole.
