Feel the sweet caress of death’s nuzzle on the carcass. Lilies bloom in the heart. Lilac extends its roots into the brain. What once was me, now stiff as stone, will become food for the flowers, fragrance for the bees, the melody of change lost of lyrics.
Blackness.
Callused build the cowardice to suffer their strengths while innocents drip in terms of tears submission. The drops pull with their falls each to knees, and as the water mixes with the rain, reflections gleam the faces that, in remembering, preserve and become him, the people who will join.
Silence.
I lived death once. Now here I am, an author in death alive, speaking final words past finality, plans yet fulfilled fulfilling my torture. Let the sense of this tarradiddle tell the senselessness of being: a beautiful, inexplicable, intelligible contradiction.
No beginning, no end, lasts forever and for-none.
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