Tuesday, July 21, 2015

When the Dead will Dance

Danse macabre
Dance death dance
The harvest of the human crop
Begins anew with every day
My bones rise
Follow in the line
Of dancers and the dead
They cannot stop
The parade goes on
And walking bones 
Are not in pain
They neither mourn
Nor do they sob
The parade of the dead
Marches on 
Whether to heaven
Or oblivion
They march together
Whatever they've achieved
Whoever they are 
Society might believe
That they are important
Or that they are not
But death is a democrat
And takes everyone alike
We might wish to live
We might be happy to die
Kings, Paupers, Knights, Beggars
Are the human harvest
Time to say good-bye