Death Marches On As Life Merely Follows

Death is not cruel. Its hands, untouched by prejudice, Welcome each and all at the behest of Time. For Time, Death's Companion, Compels us to accept Death's embrace, And daily reminds us of its eventuality. We may shout, cry, rebel, or simply turn away, Believing that which covets our lives is unscrupulous. It is life which leads us to this abhorrence. I am life's fool. For though life gives no promise Beyond the act itself, of being alive, And refuses any union, I've begged purpose and love to lend life grace, And defend against the dread of my mortality. Reflected in death's eyes, will I feel betrayed? When seeing it's I who was life's purpose, Will I struggle on or fade from life's own impotence. My love for you, Provides me strength and aegis. It is proof against the casual life, Where prosaic people pass with derision For all but the material, self-serving and vain. It illustrates a life filled, essential, For when life's light is no longer aflame We've shared laughter and love and hence I propose That this is our true significance.