on death

on death

The tide of time moves forward still
After ages and ages hence
In our prime we rage and cry
And pass alas away, to death

The end of days, there be no need
To rage, what then of bold blood and piss
What then of time, the end of time
The end of movement comes to this
What then, death

The unmoved pulls the moved
The unmoved ends the line, of time
If stillness is the lack of time
Then the end of time is death, not bliss
The end of movement comes to this


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Reviews

[NoneOfYourBusiness akaK..]

I like the classical rendition~ fits this dusky topic perfectly~ well written and related~