Death poem: Anew

I stand alone, hard ground beneath my feet.
The cool breeze blows,
calming,
soothing,
all things once dead are reborn.
The eternal repear, once sole owner, has now become a mere on looker.
Salvation and glory are the ultimate destination of the soul,
death,
a mere transition.
Renissance,
rebirth,
death is defeated and the soul remains.