Death

Have mortals’ verve ever ventured
To quiz your queer morale and roles?
Aren’t you a myth devoid of sense
Sheltered long, by immortal souls?

They disguise you by doleful names,
Though their dread has failed to scrutinize.
Glory to you if you have ever lived,
You are a legend launched in disguise.

They say you descend, but not twice,
Strange and stubborn for compromise.
Has man ever cared to confide
In your harmless heart of cries?

Dead asleep in the depth of night
I spoke to you with stone-blind eyes.
When I rose fast from the dead
At sunrise, I stained not your guise.

A welcome myth in you well masked
Threatens the king and the peasant.
So Dear Death, have you a date of birth?
My wisdom fails to trace your age.

When the butcher swings his blade,
What attitude would you embrace?
When the culprit climbs the gallows,
Would you smile at the scene in a daze?

Death is so closely blended with life,
Though fate of man isn’t imminent death.
To brood over Death as deadly foe,
Makes man insane and void of breath.

No mission was ever equipped
To challenge the immortal soul.
At curtain fall, the cloak is stripped,
In sequent scene to play his role.