Death

Death

The beauty I see before me,

Why is it so bright?

Is it not here to guide me through the night?

Is it the beauty of light,

That I seek here and now?

As I try to tear myself away,

Day, come Day

It becomes brighter, and brighter

lighter, and lighter

Whiter, and Whiter

The beauty that I once saught

Is now nothing to contort

I fought against it,

But now I have given in

The beauty that I once saught,

Has now sweapt me in.

Copyright © 2012 by Anna Morrison-Hill

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