Buried Knowledge (a poem)

An inkling 
A feeling 
A knowing 
Of the end 
On their final day 
A day of last things 
Last meal 
Last word 
Last breath 
Did they know 
When they awoke 
That this would be it 
They would soon be gone 
Become a memory 
A whispered name 
From another’s voice  
The dead won’t answer 
My shrouded queries 
Holding their secrets 
Tight in folded arms 
Understanding 
The only way to know 
Is to wait 
Wait for my turn 
To gaze deeply   
Into the abyss 
Lifeless eyes 
Forthcoming nothing  
To those next in line 
~~~~~~~~~~~~
2026, John L. Harmon 

Freak Out, 
JLH 
~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
A reading list for 2026…
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