It was Death himself
at my swords tip,
shocked at his predicament--
unaccustomed as he was
to life's end--
unfamiliar he was
to be within sight of his own last ending,
he blanched in the pale moonlight
eyes fixed on the silver spear
as if seeking answers there.
How do you tell Death
his own death comes;
to give him some comprehension
where he has capacity for none
in his dead last matter?
He said.
'How am I to meet
alls ending this way
when I am the very symbol
of the terminus;
the instrument of the last
for the few
and the many?
'Tell me how I am come to this end;
the irony of my own dead death
now near? '
'Death must die' I said
"as life itself begins;
this is not so mysterious Death
to understand.
You are not the end but
my own beginning.
Life's insistence always come to the fore;
youth aborning.
'That is the cycle of all things, '
I said.
'You die death;
not a sad departing
but for others a new beginning."
'How sad,' Death said
'I understand your glib reckoning
but, my death to me is personal.
While the Great Cycle
to you may be mesmerizing,
for me it is my fully sensed ending.
"Endings are personal and while
loves I've known
have found new loves
it did not in this
obliterate
old love's ending.
And that is I."
Old loves die
and their death
is not erased
by new love's
beginning;
they live
in the sad
sighings
we hear at night
when we are alone
in our beds
in the dark
crying."
"Do not then think"
Death said
"I, like old loves
end,
rather we
pivot
in the silent night
and layer ourselves in with new loves'
now sadder
beginnings."
I gave him the Thrust
as we all must
recognizing that all that is new
is not always free;
but;
indeed has a cost.
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Janna