Going Home

• Mark Lee, Grade 11
• Poetry
• 2008

The air is cool and hot, ethereal
There is no hunger, no thirst, no pain
Such paradise void of such earthly bonds cannot be real.

Fragments of the past float by my side
Retrospective of my life
The memories that bond weakly drift
The memories that bond like iron hold on

Earthly pleasures, purged unwillingly
Holding on, the only real remains of me
A fleeting moment on earth now contricted to an eternity in slumber.