The Life Of Death Poem by chanan cli

Only imagination do tell.
What put man in life-time sleep?
Those awake dry inside with tears outside.
Those awake with mouth open ready to yell.
The ones held, were no longer to keep.

Only imagination do tell.
What put man in life-time sleep?
Eyes as black as crow with empty socket.
Cloth as black as coal as 'lightlessness' of the darkness night.
With scythe does it harvest the soul.

The entity lacks no tool.
The tools are entities of the entity's greatest company.
Suicide and the horrors of the mind like labyrinth of Minos,
Pleasures of the flesh,
The greatest is man.

Issues in life is hydra.
Fighting death is a battle against Hydra.
It knows only victory.
Even an ubermensch falls defeated.
It always finds and get the Achilles heel.

It knows only victory.
Except the sands of your hourglass hasn't ran down.
We walk closer to our tomb daily.
Where it takes us to? We know not.
If we live again or die again after the present life.

Its way are mysterious and like a very complex Sudoku.
The way seen and unseen with unknown principles.
The Modus Operandi of death.
The life of death.