The Faith IN Death

Being marionettes of the mortal world; we fear the hues of death, 

Breathing in precarious winds on earth; death holds words of faith.

A random chat with holy death gave me new insights,

As mortal souls, we float in mirth; insouciant of the nights.

We breathe each day in mundane smiles; cherish the trompe-l'oeil light,

We fear to hear the tales beyond; we fear the depth of night.

Death is bliss; a truth divine; it walks in a hush on earth,

Unfurling lanes to the world of peace; death brings eternal mirth.

Death perhaps is the end on earth; leaving mortal remains,

The holy flames of scarlet hues; will cleanse the frames mundane.

Draped with arms of blissful warmth; it carries the subtle soul,

The games on earth must call an end; it's time for a bigger goal.

Mundane bonds still inflict pain; shake the sobbing hearts,

It's harrowing how the ivory fumes create anguished art.

A farewell from the final shore into the world unknown,

The art of death is saddle-sore; yet to be cherished alone.