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Death
He had not asked to be made
as who he was, nor had he
volunteered to be the bearer
of such a tremendous duty.
Nearly every waking moment,
he spends escorting fallen souls
to their self-determined finality.
In addition, he’d had no say
in the choosing of his names,
of which he had many.
Death, if he wished, could easily
shrug the weight from his shoulders.
Yet, knowledge of the consequences
of such an action, held him back.
Once, he had set his duty aside.
What followed, could only be
classified as a calamity.
He realized, that without him,
Life could not carry out her duty.
For, in his ancient ceremony,
he’d always left behind the body,
and only taken the ephemeral.
It was Life’s, not his, responsibility
to reclaim and recycle the bodies.
Yet, this knowledge is not what
tortured his being most.
No, that rank belonged to the idea
that no one would come to claim him.
This is a very deep,
This is a very deep, insightful write, I like this so much it shows empathy towards something we all fear, you have turned that fear around, I now feel sorry for Death! Very clever :-) X
Thanks once again for the
Thanks once again for the comment and compliments! I'm glad the idea i was going for worked out.
We'll just keep writing 'til there's nothing left to write.
We'll just keep waiting 'til they read all our works left to right.