The Final Solution

His hand in form of vision did appear,

chastising my mind, and forging my heart in fear.

Oh, dark...cold and morose are his forbidding ways,

As he in dark spirit roams, seeking souls to claim.

Oh whispers of death,

With fading souls last breath,

For grieving, are the stones of this weight,

As he in timely manner, provides entrance into silence’s gate.

So hinder not his hand through dimensions gain,

For it is but a cycle of life, that releases this pain.

For through the touch of his darkness,

we in the multitudes of somber conclusion,

Finally realize that death and his essence, holds life’s final solution. 

J. Allen Wilson © 2004