When white wings, feathery scatter
silent as snowflakes gather
resting on rooftops,
in death, does a soul linger,
does it fly in the vastness
of forever?
Like some birds in clouds
we’ve never seen, though
felt in rain, or wilds.
Swift a rush that chills
and floods the heart unknown,
a gift of truth reveals
that which eyes cannot look upon,
and only hearts
can feel.
with the recent passing of my Father, it’s good to know his presence is felt, at times in unexplainable ways, but also he has appeared in my dreams 3 or 4 times since he passed, with two of the dreams being deeply spiritual and profound to me.