When the reaper wails, the soul cries out,
It screams and shouts inside the body,
''Thine last place has arrived, thou shalt not survive! '' he screams,
The soul, it hugs the body, utterly distressed,
''Nay, thou cannot survive the reaper's curse, when he wails, '' the cold voice booms,
Like a knife scraping against a rock,
The fire burns out, and darkness engulfs the human.
The reaper, he touches the soul with a bony finger,
The soul gives a last deep wail,
And fathoms into nothingness,
The reaper removes his veil
There is nothing. Just darkness.
''The reaper is nothing...just a cloak with scenes of delightful death...'' he laughs.
He clasps the soul quietly in his elongated hand.
He stalks way,
Only the limp body is left,
Waiting to be buried,
Under a cold, dark mound.
Life swallowed up in death, a struggle even the strong cannot claim victory, Keep your words and thoughts in print so we all may enjoy.
A moment of reckoning when the cold hands of death squeezes life out of its victims and sends its soul into eternity, well imagined and insightfully depicted in the poem. A well articulated piece of poetry nicely penned in poetic diction. Thanks for sharing. Please read my poem MANDELA - THE IMMORTAL ICON.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It's a great poem. Great thoughts presented in beautiful worlds and lovely lines, and an universal message that attracts readers from all corners of the world....................................10