Dusty Poetry #84

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They stirred the ashes with a stick,
But found no fire to light my wick.
Now dark and cold I lay stock-still
And wait upon a lonely hill.

The ones who loved me gathered round
As I was placed inside the ground,
But you were nowhere to be found.
I strained my ears and heard no sound.

Yet soon I know I’ll feel the thrill
Of fire’s return, the end of chill,
And as I’m lighted with the quick,
I’ll rise as trumpets play a lick.


1 Thessalonians 4:16 For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first.

I don’t know how widely known this is to people generally, but for the last few years, the internet has been REPLETE with people all over the globe who claim to hear trumpet sounds in the sky. It’s been in the news (see below.) I’m completely fascinated by this phenomena, regardless of the origin.