Jan 1
Bedressed (A Poem)
Those souls that have not fright Do stand in the shroud of giving They no longer hunger for the light For they only exist for the living Like trees bedressed with snow They mourn the day’s early light When straight they stand no matter the weathers might
These people they do not stay to laugh But sway to the words that swirl their sight They have thoughts, yet they do not see Only in the darkness do they find their epitaph
That headstone upon the earth marking the very place of their passing the only evidence of their life when all memory is redacted
When then, will those who remain begin to see a truth that humanity does not wish But has no choice than to accept...
RW 01/01/2026
