Seppuku

Stately pines in Night's crimson Deep Whisper a rustling song... Gleaming steel, and warriors two Beneath the weeping moon With eyes a'dew and locked, embrace The poetry of Death... Alas the final shuddering as flesh Gives home to sword, "Tis done, 'tis done! Love's wage is paid- The body's struggling dignity... Upright no more, in blood awash, Yet even then that silent reaching- Grasping for his "Other," With heart a'twain and sorely cleaved, He gasps that name which was his soul, Beloved! See my troth! The forest bows to reverence, But nay, the thing's not done... As flashing drops a pristine blade In firmest grip of youth-strong hands, And honor's deed's discharged... Silence now, in clouded clamour, As nary a sound escapes, Save the gentle meeting of a Fallen tear upon a leaf at the "Other's" feet...