What is that I seek? 

In the cavities of my grave, 

where no lies remain to dispel.

Gallant pretense is exhausted.

I lie in the softness of shade,

charred ashes repose in an adorned urn.

Burial shrouds offer the kindest shade, 

caskets cradle, and anxieties purr away. 

The old story tells me:

venomous stings are what evil brings,

yet only through darkness does light begin to shine.

And so I focus on the slight beam. 

Revealing to me- I still have time.