That would be a terrible dream

But God would see that it would prevail

Life through a living stream.

Thus runs my dreams living still

That life prevails beyond the grave,

Life empties after death the will

And the spirit but true to save.

Of what language the spirit choose

Would it be a cry or moan?

A crying child at night might lose

His nightmare with a groan.

Death as though empty and pale

Is a door we all travel through, 

Decay is but a continuing tale

And a spirit to be born anew.

David Wood, Dec 2012