The Dedicated

Some must employ the scythe 
Upon the grasses,
That the walks be smooth 
For the feet of the angel.
Some keep in repair 
The locks, that the visitor 
Unhindered passes 
To the innermost chamber.

Some have for endeavour 
To sign away life 
As lover to lover,
Or a bird using its wings 
To fly to the fowler's compass, 
Not out of willingness,
But being aware of 
Eternal requirings

And if they have leave 
To pray, it is for contentment 
If the feet of the dove 
Perch on the scythe's handle, 
Perch once, and then depart 
Their knowledge. After, they wait 
Only the colder advent,
The quenching of candles