Ace Of Black Hearts

Rookie - 361 Points (04/17/1984 / Homa Lousiana)

Death, The Bearer Of The Ultimate Truth - Poem by Ace Of Black Hearts

Death delivers this unconditional kind of message.
You will feel pain as you have never done before be warned.
Your most inmate soul has been forever lost.
Indeed in the last moments of love it does burn something great, something fierce straight into us.
It is but reflection of what will come before you too.
Nothing more then a constant mirror of our own mortality.
But after you experience enough of them you become numb to it.
Some call it going through the motions.
Only the first is a one in a lifetime kind of loss.
Death is quick and easy, living on past it is the hard part.
For grief, is just a single moment in our sometimes bitter loneliness.
The forever kind of longing for that perfect companionship would drive most to point where sanity is no longer possible, plausible or even palatable.
An in the moment of our truest despair, we discover the importance of life itself.
The importance of trying to bring purpose where it was only hours ago non-existent.
Some call this a silver lining among the darkness.
Hope is but refuge that is preparing you for the reality we must all face.
A truth so horrible, so cruel, some believe it to be even unjust.
And with this the anger rises, and the rage is ever tempted as we keep screaming at the empty walls.
Raising our voices to the abyss of the thundering skies.
But mark my words it is not something any of us can avoid.
We must accept it and move on.
For to dwell on the very limited time we have is indeed a foolish endeavor.
Give me a ceremony and let it be done.
There are more important things to worry about then a single man, woman or child.
I know this sounds cold and harsh.
But in these swamps, in this thick dreary marsh there is still plenty of life to live.
And either you are gonna be part of it or not.
Fated among the dead tree left to rot.
Becoming the food and energy for the most unique kind of bugs.
There are mere strangers as they start to pick the body apart.
But soon we come to this understanding, this kind of unending connection.
That all life needs each other.
There very survival is interdependent on ours.
Forever is but unknown number marked on the tombstone of freshly dug grave.
And to know of this death, is to know you can't have it any other way.


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, November 21, 2013

Poem Edited: Friday, November 22, 2013


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