I. The Dying
Above, the galaxy gleams luminescent
reflecting, cold and callous, on the sand
now stained with blood, the future lost to present.
She mimics statue, head bowed, upturned hand,
withholding sound though tears drip from her eyes
reflecting, cold and callous, on the sand.
Something feels mocking in the star-filled skies
as though their fire feasts on her despair
withholding sound, though tears drip from her eyes
and spill into the dirt like useless prayer.
The dark will fade, and light will fill the east
as though the fire feasts on her despair
time yet progressing though her world has ceased.
The planets up above still spinning on
until they fade, and light will fill the east.
A bitter brilliance, a heartless dawn:
above the galaxy gleams luminescent
the planets up above still spinning on
but stained with blood, the future lost to present.
II. The Dead
The moon is orange, a silent glowing stone,
the wind below droning a danse macbre
to shake dead trees like fingers left to bone.
Her throat can only make a strangled sob,
that turns into a desperate choking scream,
the wind below droning a danse macbre.
She struggles in the current of the stream,
as waters clutch her skirt and drag her deep,
that turns into a desperate choking scream
as Death whispers, “It’s not your time to sleep.”
She screams her soul out hopeless ‘til the dawn,
as waters clutch her skirt and drag her deep,
the wind sings, always mocking, “They are gone.”
The stream shows blood again, the light is red:
She screams her soul out hopeless ‘til the dawn,
grieving anew for children long since dead.
The moon is orange, a silent glowing stone
the stream shows blood again, the light is red, and
shakes dead trees like fingers made of bone.
III. Death
He waits impatiently for summer’s end,
for summer’s fruits to wither on the vine,
for with their death, life comes to him again.
Their time is not unyielding like the pine,
deciduous, and waits for change of leaf,
for summer’s fruits to wither on the vine,
and die with them his loneliness and grief.
The trees go red, then brown, and fall like Rome,
deciduous, and wait for change of leaf
to make a golden path to guide her home.
Her smile holding warmth the world has lost
the trees go red, then brown, and fall like Rome:
it’s worth the price that’s paid in snow and frost.
He holds her close as flowers go to seed
her smile holding warmth the world has lost;
when spring returns, his heart begins to bleed.
He waits impatiently for summer’s end,
to hold her close as flowers go to seed
for with their death, life comes to him again.