Walking with the Dead

As I wander this quiet pasture,
The dead resting below my steps,
I feel the peace, the calm,
The gentle breeze of sleep.
Death wisps in the air,
A scent aged and subdued,
A reminder of inescapable prophecy.
The futility is soothing,
Once promises are accepted.
The realization is rapture,
Once understanding is grasped.
To sit among the dead
A pleasure,
When at last the serenity holds you.