Hymns, resounding choruses from the choir
Tears, drowning feeling like falling into a quagmire
Hades gloats, Reaper is victorious once more
The bellies of men are filled with wine, battle for bread amongst women

The Dark one isn't satisfied with one meal
The pain of the bereaved are like old battle wounds taking time to heal
"Oh death where's thy sting!" but you are in pain
A scorpion couldn't sting much worse

Candle lights for the flowers, salty water for herbs
Collection of ashes of dead Stars we are
Easily blown away by the Dark wind like the ashes we are
Subjective to say in lieu of the dead,
I'm sure this is the least that happens when we die

© Crichton