To Embrace

Death is bound by reasons to embrace,        

To love, to kiss, to hold,  

Embracing every season,                          

Too dry, too wet, too cold.

Need in osculation is of a soul,                      

To grab, to grasp, to groan,                          

All passing through the same murky hole,

Too kind, too shy, too bold.

With ignited passion in heart,      

Death is proud and clinquant,    

Lust of souls isn't ephemeron,          

Empyreal it is; to know, is to die!

Blasphemy isn't of its kind,                            

As zealot as austere ascetic lies behind!