A Spirit's Journey Down

I cradle you in hands of bone,

You and I, all alone,

My, how the shadows have grown.

We walk in sands of ivory,

Down by the silent sea,

You, hand in hand with me.

A raven wrenches the sky

With his dawning cry

As I guide you, by and by.

The Stygian River creeps along

Sluggish, yet flowing strong,

The measure of right and wrong.

Charon waits in purple dusk,

And on the wind blows a musk,

Of I, Death, the ever-roving husk…

Very simple, very obvious…I loved the way this plays out. For some reason, Death's been on my mind for quite a long time as a metaphorical person…a subject that sometimes is beat to oblivion, yet is still so very much fun to reinvent.