Saturday, October 8, 2011

03.30.11 An Ode to Death

Death, I ever seek thee, yet
when you arrive, I forget thy purpose
I want to dress you up and show you off, but
you prefer silence; you are patient and slow
You see no reason to be polished or shined
Your business takes you to unsavory places
     unkempt, dirty, and hidden corners
     rooms whose doors have long since been locked
Undeterred, you set to work.  Hard labor is nothing to fear.
Eagerly you take the treasures, idols, handcuffs
     off the gilded shelves of souls that whimper,
     pained to suffer freedom
With every cry of "mine!" defeated by you, Death
I think it prudent to follow instead of fight
Save my energy, for after the
     tearing down, ripping out, burning up -
there's still a lot of heavy lifting to do.
You are nothing if not thorough


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