Beginnings at the End of Day

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With profound majesty
dusk turns to night,
ends absolutely this blaze
of lucid dreams,
slow dance of toil,

festival of pain and glory
we named life.

 

Your labors were your
masterpiece,
seen by most as just
survival, but
to the lives they sustained
they were Life.

 

I could not climb
into your heart and
decode the pain
that tangled my small
definition of love,

 

but love you did

and the world was better
for it.

 

Forgive my judgment
and rest now
in ways I cannot fathom
on this side of
the darkened glass
as something tells me
--and I have no doubt—

that somewhere in forever
a life has just
begun.

 

Patricia Joan Jones

Author's Notes/Comments: 

In memory of my father in law.

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