Jeremy Moore Poet Prose Poetry

Death Lives For Death

He stands there, alone.  Alone, looking out. Looking out across the vast empty lands.
Lands now cold, dark, and void of life.  Life that had once stampeded through the continents.  
Continents that now were as lifeless as the moon.  The moon whose eye stared down in its 
socket in the heavens, at an empty planet that no longer was entertaining.  Entertaining 
now, only death.  Death, he stands there alone, finally.  Finally he has accomplished all that 
he is, all he had lived for.  Lived for, yes Death lived for death.  For death is the only life that 
he contains.  Contains, contains like the vast body of water, the sea, contains salt, cursed so 
it can never quench thirst.  Thirst, like Death thirsts for his own death, yet he lives on.  
Lives on and on.  On and On.  On and on.  on and on.

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