The Spirit of Love

A Poem by barbinar

For my aunt upon the passing of my uncle.

The Spirit of Love

All is not confined by the tomb;
there is a spirit set free to roam
after the body ceases to be
and the soul has risen, light and free.
It is the essence of a loving heart;
what remains is the purest part
of the one you have laid to rest
with tears of grief upon his breast.
So, if you glance toward an open door,
hearing a footstep that is no more,
or feel his hand brush your hair,
or sense his presence in a favorite chair;
and if your mind cries, "He has died!",
then let your heart in faith reply,
"He is not gone, nor am I alone,
for his love of me lingers on."