Death

Under daylights waning light,
Succumb I, no more, to vengeful night,
Content within earthen room, nay door
Learned and feeble alike, are trod upon
Collected wisdom, now astray,
Taught not, of death, nor his callous ways.
But seek I, a truer path, and go
To learn the lessons taught below.

See the dark crushed velvet skies!
Where starlit diamonds capture minds,
And softly, softly, Diana glides
To yonder shores, Oh how she rides!
To where the slumbering lie still,
Breathless lungs, ne'er again to fill
Where once again, under twilight show
Souls fall to earth as virgin snow
The ground on which the righteous walked
Of good or evil, it now baulks
Leaving behind, as stoic knaves
In Mother Earth, begotten womblike graves

Across the satin sheen of night
Vivid dreams that dance like sprites
There, in their nonchalent state
Mere men accept the hand of fate,
But think you, walking on named stone
The granite quilt of aged bone,
"Once lived they, their history told,
As mine shall be, e'er carved in stone."
Those graves, those citadels of sleep,
That womb of earth that holds them deep
Down in her soiled womb to roost,
Forevers sleep, life induced.

Those stoic stones, 'pon, carved a name
The rotting corpses claim to fame
Our lovers, friends, in sad decay
Though their legacies may never fade
But what are we, a race of wandering souls
Men, half ambitious, all unknown.
Stone sentries, watch with unblinking eye,
Those vaults in whom our history lie,
Where angels cry their tears of stone,
In a copse of epitaphs and bones

But we, mere fools, of altered state
Praise the rich, adorn the great
But they too, succumb to death
E'er fame diminished, 'pon final breath
On, before my eyes, beauty fades,
A swift unveiling of pastel shades
In dying flowers and mourning shrouds
And azure skies and cotton clouds
But harken to the sobering cry,
"Think, poor fool, what it's like to die...."

In shrouded funerary parlance,
Speaketh he, of ill conscience
Think I, I hear the corpse chagrin;
(Yon women, halt thy whimpering!
Time, to him, hath meaning not
Smothered by the midnights rot)
Thus spake they, in dulcet groans,
Akin to songs of dusty bones.

"When, of breath, man is forsaken,
Recounts he, the path he's taken
They, like me, recall past things:
Love, lust and forgotten dreams
But fools are those who's fear prevails
Above the Angels, and Son of Israel
Death's 'pon a path that all must tread,
If he were to God, imbed.
A silent night, a whispering wind,
Death is the lover, not the fiend."

"But why? Why must Death, our life steal
Leaving mourning o'er nights, eternal?
E'er we are torn from life as nefarious weeds,
'Pon palls of black and funeral steeds.
For though each man might, to God, implore
He cannot live forever more"

'Las, neither can the dying know
The loss they feel, their tears of woe.
The soul, who in fleshy prison, dwelt
Knows nothing of what the body felt.
When lifes final years are run
Through winter rains or glittering sun:
Such joy though far transcending sense,
When old enemies make new friends.
But once in earth, the body is placed
A mans history is thus debased
Malignant fears are cast aside,
Along the ever turning tide
For all the friends along the path he chose,
Each man must face death alone....

Reviews

[YoungWriter.]

Haven't seen such a marvellous written poem in a long time! Truly well written (:

[Brandon Taylor-Black]

Many thanks, it's quite an old piece. I wrote it about 5 years ago, during a bleak time in my life, so I'm glad it reached others that like it.

[YoungWriter.]

I am glad you chose to share it because it's truly a master piece (: