The moon shone on the silent graveyard <br />sniffing dusty dieing footsteps of mourners <br />subtle echoing dirges rekindle old tassels <br />forgotten sleeping fires leaped from sages past <br /> <br />The cool evening breeze blew over the earth <br />the weary living seek repose from the day’s toil <br />solemnly I strolled this very hour the ranks <br />where forerunners lay in perpetual sleep <br />their cradles neatly lay in rows of reminiscence <br /> <br />The cool rain has watered and sodden the ground <br />yet they stubbornly refuse to germinate <br />the cock had crowed yet they remain asleep <br />the cool gentle breeze to pacify them they ignore <br />why are the living shunned by the dead? <br />Perhaps the dead are angry at our mournful pity <br />or maybe they are full of many regrets in retrospect <br />of what should have been done that was left undone <br /> <br />Behold the graveyard has become the brain yard of ideas <br />replete with so many lofty dreams that lay untried <br />brilliant masterpieces wasted on the alter of indecision <br />complacency has murdered ingenuity in cold blood <br />beloved, hearken to the hoarse voice of wisdom <br />the green leaves take a cue when the dry leaves fall <br />the earth is starved of sane ideas because they lay hidden <br />buried in the graveyards of procrastination <br /> <br />Weep not when I die <br />place no RIP - Return Impossible <br />I do not seek any “Revel In Procrastination.” <br />So against all odds I set forth <br />limping and crawling early at dawn <br />to let it be swift but powerful <br />altruistic and memorable <br />to account for the talent <br />So help me God.<br /><br />Dela Bobobee<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-brainyard/
