The Life of Death
The fallen corpse, a mighty giant
no more than wood,
splintered as if he could
escape the final tyrant
that is death
but never would
as he never had before...
but look!
beneath the pliant
timber rests a spark of green
subtly showing,
worming, growing,
stretching, yearning to be seen.
Heavens know that earth below
may be dying but buried beneath the snow
lies the seed, it will be freed!
On once blooming parents,
children now rise and bleed
to die again,
to live again, falter and rise
body growing stronger
to meet its demise
the wise
once said death comes for all that is living,
they died, a fool can see
their deeds have given
rise to you and me; no greater life is there,
reaching,
teaching,
breaching from beneath the rotting tree
the sapling, once again free.
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