At Her Feet

---

At Her Feet

A Sonnet

And thus hast thou culled one more flower
For thy grim black ceremony O death,
Battling one small life’s feeble power
With all thy might and marred breath.

Rejoice not O death on victory premature
For the sheath dear is thy only portion,
The warm breath its home doth enter
And soul leap to a new joy’s destination.

Thou shalt not leash his spirit’s motion,
A hound beyond earth in ethereal fields
Chasing joy’s birds without caution,
His soul finding all its desired fullness.

On life’s eternal road he will travel yet,
And pause for rest snuggling at Her feet.