the hands on the old clock move so slowly but each turn of its gears fills this empty room with sound like a grindstone turning these bones back into dust to be carried by the winds into the loving arms of mother earth
This has so much tenderness and sentiment in it, like our mothers, mother earth is beautiful, strong, and wise and always there for us to see her beauty and enjoy her.
😀 I’m afraid to think about what this means about me, but what I thought about was how unfortunate it is that the bones of my mother are lying in a cement vault – unable to return to and sustain the earth. Thanks for confirming my plans to be cremated – so my ashes and fragments of un-burned bones can do what they were meant to do.
Read Between the Minds 
Beautiful.
Emma 🙂
that is just such a beautiful and sensitively painted image charles…
the one true mother …
the ultimate mother’s day poem – very well written Charles
deep and solid love
Amazing, I just got back from a walk in the forest and I was thinking about how the Earth/Nature, is our true Mother.
A beautiful metaphor.
Good one.
This has so much tenderness and sentiment in it, like our mothers, mother earth is beautiful, strong, and wise and always there for us to see her beauty and enjoy her.
😀 I’m afraid to think about what this means about me, but what I thought about was how unfortunate it is that the bones of my mother are lying in a cement vault – unable to return to and sustain the earth. Thanks for confirming my plans to be cremated – so my ashes and fragments of un-burned bones can do what they were meant to do.
to be born again… may be in a tree 🙂