Mortality, O how dark is the day
When thine own cessation’s rise bests the sun’s
And extracts life from those nigh with its way
For gloom now casts o’er those who loved thee tons?
Skies plunge, rainfall peaks, friends commence their mourn,
Leaves fall, thunders roar, thy casket readied,
Faces pale, tears torrential, hearts are torn,
Six feet under, soil fills, earth is steadied.
Many winters will turn whilst Death still looms,
Grief will cease excision for thou absence,
Loved ones will weep for thy Death and their tombs,
Thy cycle will prove: life need no repents.
Below they bring sadness upon faces,
Why? Thou rest in His Glorious places.