Death is a tyrant
Who draws all into his thrall.
But he is also the great deceiver
Letting us believe
That all our suffering and grief
Will end with our last fall.
I dreamt of a gala parade
Peopled by precious youth
Joyously marching to their death,
Destined for self-destruction,
Led by self-delusion
And the promise of a greater truth.
A crowd stood on the sideline
Egging the innocent on,
Supporting the great and terrible lie
That life has little value
It is the "experience" that matters,
Mere existence is just a yawn.
Lord Yama was said to be waiting,
Resplendent in his glory
Ready to greet and embrace
These supplicants to sacrifice,
These lambs dancing to the slaughter
The dance of death through history.
But there was no mighty welcome,
At the culmination of this panoply,
No glorious embrace into Creation's bosom;
Just Death's shabby dissemblance,
Attired in corruption's rags,
Dealing dark oblivion for all of eternity.