thoughts//theyaremy part7

Silence, a gentle ring that circled our table.
Golden flowers decorated his chamber.
A pale face- reality blurrs.
He laid in the catacomb
weaved with the threads of white ash and silver dust.
The chants echoed deep into our minds.
Flashes.
The silence, it binds us.
It holds us. It reminds us.
It tells us. It says
Everything was right.
Everything has an end.
His story has only began.
To another place.
To a better place.

The face of that sweet slumber of death remains.
A harsh score is left in us. Peace. Tranquil. Death.