Beauty In Death
Is it a sin? Is it a crime?
That with this life of mines,
All I can think about is death?
I see the Sprouting Black roses,
Rich in color and texture.
Mesmerized I walk towards them.
I have found the meaning again,
Not the meaning in life
But the meaning of living while dead.
An endless ride with souls long gone,
A chariot at full speed being led
By a force unknown.
My surroundings of glitters and gold,
Sparkles shining in every corner I turn
Illuminating the path to my yearned goal.
From above I see the mortals,
And their angered spirits
Fighting with might not knowing their limits.
How can I tell you? How can I try?
Nothing compares to the panorama in sight,
Fulfilling my worthless earthly life.
Copyright © Rahima Espat | Year Posted 2016
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