The following is an exercise reminiscent of Dasein confronting the possibility of the Nothing. Being-toward-death!

THE BEAUTIFUL GARDEN OF DEATH

In the Beautiful Garden of Death
The ideal seems real.
Utopia
Is what we feel.
 
Serene among the pin wheels,
            Whirling in the wind,
            Skipping on tombstones,
            Souls going home.
 
Placid among the willows and the yews.
 
There:
 
Great oaks shade the memory of heroes.
Pines whisper when the west wind blows.
 
In the Beautiful Garden of Death
All speculate; no one knows.
 
Or, if they knew - died, and did not tell.

David Francis Smith


Created 2001/3/18
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