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.