After The Waters Fly Poem by Michael Walkerjohn

Again
I do so return
as I died, forsaken
there between the shore
beneath December; against
the hope of destiny… pure mist
upon the skies. Alive again, to end
all sin created through those for years
and longer. It was spoken but buried there.
Here, in this present day, to be restored
through the stars as my soul and my
voice once again sighs… to dust
you each shall be returned.
By the shores, your poor
tired souls shall dwell
and the airs shall breathe
only for the brave among you.
These brave souls will be entwined
with the waters cast from heaven.
For the rest of you, there will be
only bitter sand and encrusted
clay. The Earth's waters will
remain until the tides are
pulled into the belt of
Orion… and then the
ends of the Earth
well, that is not
going to matter
much at all to any
party that remains
after the waters fly…