Their graves are calling
The graveyards sing
Silent solemnity and undisturbed peace
Silent trees with moss-stuffed cracks
Untrod grass and pale lichen
They the dead, in seeming rest.
The night is coming
The mind awakes
Blue skies turn gray and colors fade
Silent solemnity and disturbed peace
A loud mind with louder eyes refusing to be closed
Thoughts revisited, paler hands
They the living, weeping for rest.
The stars unveil
The moonlight shines
Silent solemnity and disturbing peace
A loud mind with a cold heart
Night hours and pale futures
They the living, desiring rest.
The morning comes
The sky grows bright
Silent solemnity turns into disturbed peace
A silent mouth and muted voice
Untrod grass and pale colors
They the living, still awake.
They the living, Them the dead
And us, neither one nor the other
Leave the resting to the passed
In time we can join Them the dead
We shall sleep another night and rest a different year
For now it is:
They the dead; but We the living.