Rupert

So we meet across the two worlds
my words within your hands.
Not forgotten, nor defeated,
speaking from the spirit lands.

I may have suffered muck and bullets,
but my spirit, it was true.
I never feared to meet my maker
for his breath I always knew.

it would alight upon my shoulder
and brighten up my day.
Weaving sentences of magic,
like a dragon fly at play.

Even deep within the trenches,
when my time was very close.
I felt His quiet compassion
when I needed it the most.

At the point of consternation
no division could be found.
The external and internal all
combined to form one sound.

That sound wave of creation
that beats a tireless drum.
Rose above the maelstorm
at the point my time had come.

But as you see death is no ending,
no loss, except of time.
For I am busy still engaging
with that mind, forever mine.

Your hands now give me movement,
a companionship this time.
A developing arrangement,
as we write in simple rhyme.

There’s a purpose to this venture,
to inform and to uplift.
I never managed in my lifetime,
to share my poets gift.

Now the things that I imagined
on the Earth are all around.
So I bring a new dimension
and insight will abound.

But my message it is simple.
I speak from past the grave.
It will be fun to work together,
I even promise to behave.