The Suspense Of The Carver....

trance.
chant.
focus, the white flowers are blooming
on the rolling sides of the hill,
the trees are lush with leaves
the skies as clear as
air, blue clouds hang
and then keep on moving
along the same direction
with the winds
trance,
chant,
focus,
lotus position, the mind as crown
the heart beats
so faintly,
the ants are waiting
the worms are calling
attention
the grass creeps
as the tomb-keeper
carves a name
on a slab
it has the same letter of your
first name..

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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