The Final Reality
Hard, cold, and unforgiving places,
Complex in execution, yet simple, by design.
Knowing their place,
They never have to assert it, and that's fine.
Looming as the backdrop to society,
And sometimes shrouded in mystery.
They are invaluable to the world;
Containing literal history.
They march in ordered rows
Consisting of stone, and bone.
When the ritual is complete- in the body goes.
The shades and hues are always known,
Striking the perfect tone.
Through life we all moan and groan-
Having to deal with those who annoy us.
Yet do not fear, when dead and haunting fields of death,
You are forever alone.
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