When Ghosts Whisper

when I feel life’s force
drifting far away
too tired to lift my head
from the pillow
then is when
I should most probably pray
when ghosts whisper
from the weeping willow
then is when
there’s little to do
but pray
and wait
for thermodynamics to work
energy changes
with the loss of day
heat dissipates
into phantoms
that lurk
cold
as the grave stone
icy
earth and clay
then is when
there’s little
left for gloom to do
but lurk
and wait
forever
choice freely given
to leave       
I shall soar
to heights above
muck and murk                  
ride the wings of angels
into heaven
languish no longer
in the realm of work
fly towards warmth
one cannot imagine