The Fires of passion

Should all that I have known change
Bring to dust all my dreams
I should rest in peace knowing
There was passion in knowing you

 If evil should I be called
And shalt be declared a lustful beast
My soul shall not seek shelter
From the name calling ever

In the fire of passion for you
My heart was warm, my soul burnt bright
And to those who know not love
Need to agree with me

That love shall die, a slow cold death
Without the fire of passion
And from its fires I forged the blade of love
And stabbed my heart for thee

If you shalt visit my grave
Touch the earth where I lie
Don't say a word, for they don't mean a thing
Just stand there, where this lover lays.

The three of us.

We share the same room, me and death

Discussing the state of my ailing friend

“Would you mind if I take him along “ asks death

“I would, should I not?” I ask

“He is my friend, a companion of times long

“Some happy, most worst, when I would hail out to him

“He would rush to my calling

“Why should I let you take him now?” I argue

“A great friend he is, I no doubt agree.

And miss him you shall, I must agree

But I am your friend too, you should see

I was here since eternity

All that is born shall one day leave

When it is time, they come to me” says death.

“Since you call me a friend death, please favour me

Let him live again, please let him be

And I shall take his place, and come with you

And see him live, a few more years

So that I know he has lived a full life

Hear my please, please acknowledge this plea

Let him be, please let him be “ I beg

“I accept this only if you answer,

A question as twisted as life itself

And when you answer I shall ask

If you still want to let him be” said death

“I shall take you, and let him live

But he shall be ailing till he dies,

His body has outlived his chartered time

And since you took his place, lone he shall be

No one to look at him and say it will be better

He shall then be forced to live in misery

Ailing being better than misery

So my earnest friend what shall it be?

A life of his misery for him,

Or shall you keep his thoughts in your heart

And warm it each time you think of him? “ Death asks.

“Take him with you, let me cry

And then grow out of it knowing he shall be in a better place

Away from his ailing, away from his pain

Into the arms of the universe, I shall look up, into the stars, smile at them

Knowing he would miss me as I would

When I die, I shall die happy

Knowing I shall meet him, amongst the creation” I pray.