And death is but a soft transition

And death is but a soft transition,
A ship that time herself slowly folds
In a hinted tease of thigh at space,
Whose smile is rarely out of place.
For our casked hearts are corked,
By our creator -deeply flawed-
To then draw upon and in the pull,
Then feel refreshed and bladder-full.

And death is but a soft transition,
Over a stellar sea of cobalt night;
Where ears are numb blocked of sound,
And where islands of light abound,
But we, caught upon another journey,
Fail to grasp through daily circumstance:
This other worlds stunning happen-stance.

And death is but a soft transition,
From a place we know and see,
To a place where we know so little
Yet are met with greater harmony.
For our loves lie there welcoming,
Upon the cusp of this sly sky skirt,
Where times sea laps endlessly sublime
And where we touch God's innocence wild and unhurt.

And death is but a soft transition,
From here to there then back again.
A plane
A place
A door
A star
Not here nor far..

And death is but a soft transition.
Which is fine,
                     Which is fine 
                                         Which is fine .

 ©ADH2015