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The Grave Is Not the End
(From the Pen of Thomas Miller – Death Poems from the Afterlife)
I felt the hush of midnight’s breath,
the slow descent into my death.
The world grew still, the silence deep,
as shadows called me into sleep.
Yet as the mourners wept and prayed,
my soul stood tall—I was not swayed.
The grave they dug could hold my skin,
but not the fire that burned within.
The coffin locked, the earth pressed tight,
but I was bathed in spectral light.
A whisper curled against my ear:
"Do not be bound by pain or fear."
I turned to see, with newborn sight,
a world beyond both dark and light.
A realm where echoes sang my name,
where love and sorrow bled the same.
And there, my fate was carved in stone,
not lost, not damned—not left alone.
For death’s embrace is not decay,
but merely life in a new array.
So grieve not, love, don’t wear the chains,
I walk with you in winds and rains.
The grave is not where I shall stay—
I live, I breathe, just far away.