StephaneDeVogue Poetry (1)

If I shall be the first to die, walk alone into the meadows, into the valleys and mountainsides and I will still be there-

Carry the sound of my voice and let it fall inside of your heart-

apart of you, I am, apart of me, you are

clasp tightly the hands of your dreams and lead yourself to happiness on your own accords- trace your footsteps past my own and mettle not with peril.

Down the field of strangers, I am destined to lie, another unidentified man of flesh taken from this world as many before- grief shall shroud your days but let not it become your master and you, its slave;

be strong and stand tall as I have witnessed and known you to do. Take only what is given and give only what's expendable. Withstand the bitter rain and wind, walk until your feet and soul and heart can carry you no more- in time, those mountains will be plains, sand dunes deserts and oceans but shallow streams.

Take hold the atlas with no boundaries, the thesaurus of all dialects, know that no one people will be the same and no one shall do more good or harm than the next.

Scan the drizzle of rain and you may find bliss and one finding none, seek my hand where we once walked together into the horizon, where still we live, outside of history, outside of time and I am still alive and the flowers in your hair will never wilt.