The Shepard's Of Arcadia 19 Poem by Felix Emeka George

I am telling you o death!
You are not fair to me,
But have I surrendered?
Fearless death,
Heartlessness and irresistible death
An unforgiving friend of earth
Which live, you bring forth to level
In equal York of their eyes
Where racing joy and sadness
Has her happiness of cradle and grey
Are all to the earth
Where men are equal in disjointed bones

In the household of death,
And the relics alter less of death
I live in frisson.
Death has no highness
Or bound of lowly ebb, it is class-less
It is no where a power proving its mount
To commands as might's,

But by the mercy of this death
We are confidence in the dead.
Of the joyous darkness of the earth
This is the miracle mark of death
Six feet below
A colour which indeed is a death sentence
On my sunshine's and rising sun,
My black angels of God's messenger
To but hold them in my minds - eyes
That can only be substances of dreams,
In my feeding and drinking kiss
Which I have shared
In a tale of memory
On the last moon light.