DEATH

This too shall pass,
Blind until we see.
Death comes at last,
It has no remedy.

A flower must die
To bloom once more,
And so again we try
To see what death is for.

Beating like a drum,
As we come and go.
Intervals must come
For the wind to blow.

So vast the universe,
Behold a cob of corn.
Death rides a hearse,
From night unto morn.

Death goes on forever,
For life to ever be.
Always betrays never.
Death makes us free.