A brush with Death
And the persuasion of Mother Earth.
Black Plague poisoning my brain,
The beauty of life slipping away.
With Death's raspy whisper in one ear,
And the sweet song of the earth pleading to me in the other.
I don't know who to trust.
"You make a fool of death with your beauty"
But the silence and familiarity of the darkness distort her cries.
I turn my back to her,
Apathetic to her imploring.
I stare at the infinite darkness, watching wisps of smoke float behind Death,
He extends his hand, bony and white as the moon,
Dark orb like eyes staring back at me.
Her weeping suddenly becomes audible,
Like raindrops falling in the night sky,
Enough to cause me to turn back one last time.
Her eyes, bright as the sun,
Light up as she notices my attention to her.
My expression does not change,
As I let the darkness consume me
Like a pack of wolves devouring their fresh kill hungrily.
However, it is painless,
A warm embrace from the cold, agonizing suffering.
At the risk of the overwhelming melancholy of Mother Earth,
He prevails.
