When a Man Die
When a man die,
Let him become a star,
Lest, he roams in his void.
His Sapphire soul,
Let it brew ageless fire,
Brightly cliffed and shining,
On the roof of the sky.
Let him burn scythes,
And high volume of larvae,
In his twilight zone.
Though he ceases to live,
Yet, let him exist,
Illuminating the universe,
With agility and gait.
The Piker Press moderates all comments.
Click here for the commenting policy.