The last of your family is
Gone. You are now alone to contemplate
Motionless sands or sere waves
In deep purple, crying oceans
To turn the tide of what could
Have been.
No family. No friends.
Just the bellyache of a vast hunger
For richness of thought,
For a dream of clear vision.
The rocks are one color alone.
You are one color alone as well.
Might as well join them.
There is no heaven or hell.
Stan Petrovich
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/when-death-is-survival/
