Hills of Blue

When limbs fail, and skin curls and screams,

You fall unto your grave,

and into your dreams.

But it is only a stop in your path,

As through your eyes your life will flash,

All the moments which you once held so dear,

And your soul has now left,

and you have no fear.

Rolling clouds, and hills of blue,

Now you’re at home, where up you grew.

So leave behind your body,

and enter this plane

And now it all makes sense, and all is sane.

For the torment you came,

but now all is peace.

And unto your soul only one more crease.

Yale Winter, age 16