No Title Yet Poem by Chanyn Fuller

This casket lays open, waiting for an occupant
A soulless figure to weigh it down
Mortician waits for this special case
Stun is his first emotion, and then change
Screams in agony and flies through
The rest, He takes one break, leaves his own
And clings to what he believes is her’s
He never stays anywhere too long, only to
Search then has no other need. These hues
Of death and mortality are all rushing towards him

Ducking down to the depths of hell, he realizes the irony
Of prayers to his Allah, the merciful and gracious,
But a look into his past, he wasn’t innocent at
Birth, he was born with many sins, those of his foregoers
Torment that is stuck to his aura stays in his heart
His acceptance was long ago and without knowledge
The prevention of renewal keeps this dusty world
In constant terror, he finally looks up and sees the gates of
Clarity opening, and it’s not late enough for this trial so he climbs
When it’s reached something else will chime inside,
But that’s off into the recently passed future