The Privileges of Death......

maybe mirrors do reflect shattered lies from broken souls

as shards of glass cut gray rivers of despair

 the whispers from red swamps catch fire with the rising of a mare.

resurrected from the graves of caves are letters that carry pain directly to the vein

autumn gives us the privilege of death….

 unpredictable as it may be death gives body warmth to the soiled soil

 decomposing memories of rooted wetlands.

who does the sun think he is trying to shine at night

 dimming the rays of starlight

funny how petals die come the morning light

gatherers of moonlight help roses grow to extraterrestrial heights

 hunters of hope planting seeds of promises

giving Death the privilege of Life.

as the reaper reap what he has sown

the bird of prey has flown away

barely escaping the promise of life 

the torment of death brings great delight.

no longer shall you hide the way....

gray lights of confusion saved the day

as the reward for extinction yields no consolation 

onward you go to the constellations....

standing ovations for the great accomplishment.

 The privileges of death were long cemented, in the mind of the long tormented.