Blue light glistens across the cold stone.
Beneath it lies the ground's stillness.
In the coffin, laid to rest, old bones.
Rotting and seemingly useless.
But they tell a story, this I say.
All you have to do is listen.
And learn from them what you may.
Because you never know what you might be missin'
Their pain and suffering are no more.
Knowledge of the afterlife obtained.
Worries of love, money and war,
Are now just memories stained.
Stained with the truth, they now speak.
Rest in peace, the old saying goes
Age and sickness, making them weak.
They welcomed death, relieving their woes.
The sands of time quickly fall.
In their box of decay they lie.
They in the night your name call.
You soon, too, will die.
Peace, a word of rest.
Sleep, a time of slumber.
Your last breath from your chest.
Death finally has your number.
Fear is what you'll feel.
But will quickly fade away.
And you'll come to know what is real.
That living was just a phase in life's way.
You see, our time, too, will come.
And what matters now, won't then.
And their knowldge to us will come.
And the story will repeat all over again.
© Copyright By Scott L. McPherson
It was dark and growing very cold,
As the fog crept over the land.
And with it the stench of something old,
A stench I could barely stand.
There was no sound that I could hear,
Except the beating of my heart.
And growing ever stronger, my fear,
Faster my pace, I did start.
I found myself amongst old stones,
Layed out on the ground.
And here and there were scattered bones,
A graveyard, I had found.
Breaking the silence, a terrible roar,
And the sound of a big crash.
With it my heart rate does soar,
As a mausoleum door, outwardly does smash.
With a rush of putrified air,
I now begin to scream.
My body ripped, my bones laid bare,
My blood in the moonlight, does gleam.
The sickening sound of a feast,
I'm strewn about the ground.
I am no longer, to say the least,
Am no longer around.
I now lie there amongst the old stones,
Hidden away, out of sight.
My bones, with the old bones,
In the graveyard of eternal night.
© Copyright By Scott L. McPherson
I am the Reaper, the harvester of the soul,
I rip them out of your body, and swallow them whole.
I live for misery and pain, my calling card,
When I take your soul, and body discard.
I’m known by another name, the Shadow of Death,
There waiting for you, when you take your last breath.
In pestilence and war, I reign supreme,
Putting in overtime, as people die and scream.
People try to cheat me, silly fools they be,
But in the end I win, there’s no escape from me.
I am the master, skillful in my trade,
Reaping what was sown, in one swipe of my blade.
I will always be, from me you can’t run,
I will be there, when your hearts beating is done.
© Copyright By Scott L. McPherson
I feel the crisp winters air against my cheek,
My face turning numb from the cold,
My chance for survival now turning bleak,
Onward I must, onward I bold.
The wind whips up little snow cyclones,
As it blows across the open plain,
So cold, chilled to my bones,
So numb, and yet so much pain.
I must find shelter, I must find it now,
Snow falling fast and getting so deep,
If I don’t find it fast, I will succumb and bow,
And fall to an eternal sleep.
More and more slowly I go,
My feet beginning to feel like lead,
It’s so cold, colder than you know,
I’m afraid that soon I will be dead.
Farther I go, my eyes begin to freeze,
And now it’s getting hard for me to see,
Somebody, anybody, help me please,
This can’t really be happening to me.
I fall to my knees, my energy all spent,
I’m so numb, I can no longer fight,
All my hope gone, all hope I had lent,
So to sleep I go, goodbye and goodnight.
© Copyright By Scott L. McPherson
