Bereavement

  Incarnation of Death – do you think my life to be but a joke?

While you may be a master of the dead and the undead,

   You know as much about life as a chick does of its yoke.

    It's far more than survival and just to sleep and be fed.

You can't truly feel the things I do,

           But you couldn't tell from my act.

People see only my superficial hue,

Not the shades and tints that I once lacked.

       I'll make it through with my saving grace –

But how would any other cope with what I must?

  I can stop any tempest; I can meet any pace,

In time I can be anything, from gold to dust.

      I suppose I have the time, as well,

  Everyone else is falling, falling forever,

While I slump, stumble, and prevent my fell.

            Time is irrelevant; time is nothing.

   I don't know how long I can keep changing,

I don't know if everything I've done is worth it all,

         You take another and I feel us estranging,

  Will I ever get to meet you after all?

I have knocked twice at your door,

And both times you refused my access,

    Like back in the day, long before,

        Life is just something I have in excess.

    You take my dog, my cat, and my brother,

I wonder what plans you have for me –

  Who is next in line, possibly a lover?

You can't keep doing this – can't you see?

My immortality is waning,

My love for life is failing,

   And my hope for death is gaining,

      Contrary to those things, my heart is hailing.