My first poem
Sweet fallen embrace of death come forth,
Taste the human’s pitiful sorrow grace,
Rejoice in their decadent ways of late,
Show no mercy in the final hours of discontent.
There is no need for weeping, Children,
The reapers grip is quick and painless
Salvation lacks of hope and dreams,
Illusions fade; just close your mortal eyes
It’s time to leave this wretched world.
The fields of everlasting glory
For which you fought all of your life,
Are waiting clearly on the other side
The blight of day and calm blue sky,
Your turn it’s now, enjoy the ride.
You mortals grind shadows of southing future
Don’t cry for man, he is but late
To catch a train in heaven’s station,
Becoming one with loving tension,
In ancestral promise of redemption
The single thing worth fighting for,
The warm embrace of God’s reflection.