Death

A thing unto all.

A given.

A majesty of life.

A bringer of strife.

A clock.

Tick tock.

A heart beats

Soon to cease.

The only free thing

None wish any to bring.

Yet lo and behold

It is as valuable as gold.

Vast wealth is spent

In its name.

Vast time is given

In its gain.

Loss it is called,

Countries it has stalled.

No greater change there can be

Than to remove a voice entirely.

It is key in the game nations play.

It can even be seen as children do the same.

That meat on your plate

That tastes so great.

That spider that scared you so.

A plant that just won’t grow.

The beauty of winter

Which holds such splendor.

Death at once

I love and need

It builds a longing, dark indeed.

I will not make you as some have.

In a bed, in a grave,

my absence you will make.

Of you I will learn when I am done.

Still, to you I choose not to run.

It is one of the cures to madness nearly none wish administered.