Here I Lie Here I lie, a strange place to die, Empty, peaceful, as the Lord's gavel strikes down, Its wooden peal resounds across the land, Empty void surrounds me. Even the bird in the tree mocks me, As I lay looking up to that blue sky, Vignette of my vista darkening. The smell of petrichor, its fog has found me, As I lie pinned to the ground. Was it worth it? Do I yet care? As I die, life cruel and unfair. As I pass, the last sense is sound— My rasps grow shorter, Till eternal peace I have found.
