The shade of death is made of a canopy piercing icicles cold
That mortal eyes ache upon its view and cannot comprehend or behold
Yet when mortal eyes are in eternal darkness closed
And death, cold and pale upon the length limbs stretched, reposed
Shall the disposed soul then wakes and roaming it seen
Asking: 'where are Eden's Golden keys? ' a question to heaven's queen
Some claim that grave is Heaven's gate
Where rich as poor, royal as commoner, all around it wait
A tale? , a fairy? , a feeble since old age been retold?
Yet, no one from there returned to this story enfold
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Really good poem. Good write. May I invite you to read two of mine. One called, the beast. And one called, Boy to a man. Both true storys.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The quest for the answer is so simple and yet so hard to grasp. Read mine - O Dearest Love - Adeline