Death pulls this puppet by the strings,
Cold as water fresh from mountain springs.
From birth, this body was in Death’s hands,
The soil beneath its feet, Death’s lands.
Fragile bones slowly crumble under its touch.
Skin turns to vapor within its clutch;
The lingering dew clings to a sea of graves,
All else disappearing amongst Time’s crashing waves.
Across the vast oceans lasts this hypnotic dance,
This doll carried in a waltz of melodic trance.
Each rhythmic step carries from east to west,
Unending ‘til Death lays the heart’s beat to rest.
Life burns at the soul;
Flames swallow withering blooms whole.
The greys of fading light are swung along,
A trail of ash is lost to the wind’s song.
For a brief moment, this little star shines bright
Like a sun in the everlasting night,
But even the sun is lost upon the horizon as it sets,
Glow dimmed to rust like Death’s tapering cassette.
Within sights appears no eternity,
For nothing lives but aching mortality.
Soon strings fray and porcelain cracks—
Like a candle, this vessel collapses to shapeless wax.
When the strings slack to this weight,
Death severs the threads of fate.
No ties left to keep this marionette bound,
It falls limp, flesh rotting into the ground.
Seeping in earth is blood dulled to soot;
It flows deep and nurtures budding roots.
One with the world which births life anew,
This soul is now Death whose tempo breathes life too.
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