02-25-2014, 05:23 AM
Honour your dead if you must, but with envy as your sword.
Lay that beknighting blade a shave away from mortality:
the pulse which threads and trills to cease is death by grand release.
You think that life is all? What if that dictum is a fantasy?
Perhaps the flame, in final triumph, fails to singe the soul
and with each silent scream from locked and rigoured jaw
we writhe to rise again and hope for peace (if that is all we wish).
Ah, but death is worth each penny paid. No wealth will by its bounty
save the day, no lucid dream will bring you back to wail and moan.
No goodness, love nor honourable deed will make one stumbled step
reverse in time, or give you but one faltering extra breath,
or let you lay content upon a soft, warm breast;
nor suck upon a flower, or eat the wind, or scoop up earth
to simply hold it in your hand.Let the end be quick and sure;
this should be our living boon.See those who lie here long
in frozen time and wait, not caring for their blessed extended years;
nor by this measure (look upon them) in their dying beds,
holding the clouded dregs of what drains out, as though a gift
from god to clutch and save. It never is the death that creeps in shade
or plucks us random from the living tree, that sweats us
in our quiet life charade; the silver mark upon our bark
will guide the buzzing chain and we will fall, felled clean if we please
...or hacked and hewn if death we fight,
with faith in never ending life our blunted blade.
tectak
2014
Lay that beknighting blade a shave away from mortality:
the pulse which threads and trills to cease is death by grand release.
You think that life is all? What if that dictum is a fantasy?
Perhaps the flame, in final triumph, fails to singe the soul
and with each silent scream from locked and rigoured jaw
we writhe to rise again and hope for peace (if that is all we wish).
Ah, but death is worth each penny paid. No wealth will by its bounty
save the day, no lucid dream will bring you back to wail and moan.
No goodness, love nor honourable deed will make one stumbled step
reverse in time, or give you but one faltering extra breath,
or let you lay content upon a soft, warm breast;
nor suck upon a flower, or eat the wind, or scoop up earth
to simply hold it in your hand.Let the end be quick and sure;
this should be our living boon.See those who lie here long
in frozen time and wait, not caring for their blessed extended years;
nor by this measure (look upon them) in their dying beds,
holding the clouded dregs of what drains out, as though a gift
from god to clutch and save. It never is the death that creeps in shade
or plucks us random from the living tree, that sweats us
in our quiet life charade; the silver mark upon our bark
will guide the buzzing chain and we will fall, felled clean if we please
...or hacked and hewn if death we fight,
with faith in never ending life our blunted blade.
tectak
2014