I watch them fly, <br />Biting wind brings streaming tears to red-rimmed eyes, <br />Air so cold, it creeps into the bones and chills the very soul, <br />Where will they go, <br />These ashes in the wind. <br /> <br />Flesh and blood reduced to memories, <br />Purified amidst a fiery blaze, <br />Those abandoned, stand about in sullen daze, <br />Where will they go, when all that they once loved, <br />Are ashes in the wind. <br /> <br />The flesh is gone, the Spirit is revealed, <br />Like a shining light to the blind, <br />Like a symphony for the profoundly deaf. <br />The fragrance of a rose outside a shuttered window, <br />Those who go before us leave us signs, <br />but all that we can see, <br />Are ashes in the wind.<br /><br />Patrick William Kavanagh<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ashes-in-the-wind-4/
