Saturday, May 18, 2002

Death's Epitome

Lurking in this
cold stale room;
the air a dead
silent anticipation

Hordes of well wishes
some with last wishes
flow of tears
run free
words of love
entwine thee

Last thoughts begin
to embody the mind
of thy soul

Fear ebbing
quicker than a whisper
deigned to a fate
to remain true

Slate though near completion
reeking uncertainty
seeking a resolution
to set that peace

A veil of sadness
falls over all;
the stage once filled
with jubilee
now stand stark

Curtains down
ovations aplenty
the end is here
let go,
give that last breath
Death is here to claim thee...


|the baker| 8:05 AM|

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