Death's Death

There stands Death with a sinister sneer,
Having moun with its Scythe one who was dear.
Yet, look, as it hangs its head in shame -
For, it realizes here its but an empty name.
The Form, destroyed, the Image exists,
The Eyes, closed, the Vision persists.
The Lips, sealed, the Word reverberate,
The Feet, unmoving, Lead each progressive mate,
The Hands, still, pout stubbornly to the Dream,
The Being, lost, in the darkness of a bright beam.
         Life, the Victor, robs Death of its breath,
         Death gasps for life and dies an unnatural death.