Exceptional Premature burial Why a urn or stone? by Sergeant Floyd Artwork by cleo85 at FanArtReview.com

Gray wet stone standing for my spirit? Names on the graves all running together like rainwater rushing over a gutter or fallen leaves in a gust tumbling. Spokes without a wheel, a smudge for a signature. Nothing meaningful. Nothing real. A poet once spoke about a captured chrysalis doomed to become a moth beating its wings imprisoned in a matchbox by a greedy boy. Grieve if you must but let my soul breath "like a boy put into breeches after being in petticoats since birth." Why an urn or a stone? Bury me like the Indian face up on the plains fodder for whatever's hungry. Then I'll be there always surrounding you. The sunbeam on your face, wet snowflakes instead of ashes falling kissing your eyelids closed or the summery view when your eyes need to take everything in. Why a urn or a stone while I am still alive? Jesus taught and told so wisely "Let the dead bury the dead." Recognized

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