Rise.

Time may take me down a narrow path and in the light call it heaven, I first witnessed death at an early age of seven,

The sea won't promote shallow breathing especially for those who drown, and time will be the  endless laughter of the dancing clown,

I know the sky won't recall the evening moon, nor place it's cards to hand so soon,

but time it shall intertwine the ghosts, as we serve well the only hosts
Of some life we dream to live, and those who wronged we shall forgive,

but time itself like flowers bloom, to remark the pages with a certain gloom,

I may walk within the shade, and lay petals composed of poems or prose, but never shall I take away the thorn within the rose,

for all I need is more than near, and death it seems to some so clear, though I  have life within me now, so long in mourning forgotten how,

To love and trust  Where all is the same, and blew to hard upon the flame,

only to see the dancing clown with laughter in his eye's, and I'm not fond of his illusion longing to reprise

Nor the light to offer up, a place for me to rise.