Epitaph Poem by Eric Cockrell

love is a forest fire,
the burning bush, smoke
rising from the embers
of a moment lost to eternity...
love is a healing touch,
the nourishing hand,
the echo of the self
whispering from its deepest
recesses... and answering!

love is murder... destroying
everything in its path.
love is a knife, cutting the soul
from its prison of identity...
love is a trash truck...
picking up the pieces of
lifetimes thrown to the curb...
love is a broken window
in a house where nobody lives...

love is the bitter taste
i keep spitting, walking down
this old road again...
yet love is the epitaph,
written in blood and sweat,
that my living leaves behind.