“Darkling I listen, for many a time, I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call’d him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die;”
– Keats (Ode To A Nightingale)
To Die & Become One With Nature
His eyes they closed, a simple plea to the dark enfold; forgiveness for what he was guilty. His heart it slowed inside his chest now a mortal beat within his breast.
Nearby, the ghost, she whimpered still. She’d seen his lover have her fill then flee the scene with nought but haste and fresh discovered immortal taste.
Yet here he lay as in crept the burning light of day.
The ghost, she wept, o’er filled with woe. His dying thoughts she longed to know. He’d been her lover. Her only one. And now that all was said and done… That had not changed, though every thought he’d rearranged to blame her for her own demise all wrapped up in loving lies.
Now as he lay in early morning light, the grey growing ever pale and bright, he thought of what had come and gone. The things he’d said. The things he’d done.
He made his peace at last he felt. The ice around his heart did melt. Immortal life, it slipped away, leaving him the mortal way. A last, resounding breath he passed. She didn’t leave, waiting ‘til his body basked in pale, pearlescent white.
It was without a single fight, he’d shook Death by the bony hand. In tearful joy dropped agony, he raised his cleared eyes to see the one he’d loved for always best that struck a beat in his ghostly chest.
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