Live forever again- apologies for your death,
But it isn't easy to pull your second breath
From lungs stifled in hard, immobile stuff.
The hands that made you, made you rough,
The mind that fed you off its cuff,
Ne'er thought a dreamer's eye they'd vex.
While you are dead, dust collects
On sheafs where drawn you were first complex
And lived forever, but died as well.
Then, you endured a kind of... static hell
When rain and time your lines did roughly quell-
You were marble- picturesque and grave.
Bethought I myself, at times, your state to save
But never the means themselves had gave
T' me so your noble, cold, and barr'n form to animate.
All thought they'd to your stasis acclimate
And you within couldn'tst even resonate
With any, for your death was there.
So I hung a crepe in a... hidden air,
Afraid to bring you from your lair,
For who knew whether you'd lie or leap?
After that first death, a second really, I creep
Hoping watching eyes- they're spying, worried- don't peep
While I a dying soul delivereth.
Live again, friend-
You had your two deaths;
I give you your second life.
----
Let that resonate a while before moving on: WARNING- SPOILERS
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Ever looked at a statue and wondered why it didn't just get up and start walking away? I mean, they look so bored, after a while, caught in that pose forever. I sympathize, and I think there's gotta be a way to let 'em run around, stretch, get some fresh air or whatever. The human ones, too, though the Venus de Milo would be a little off-balance, and David would need some pants, as would a bunch of others. Anyone want to REALLY market some blue jeans?
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Carpe Diem Ad Muertum
Sieze the day, to the death. There is no potential that shall be passed by, there is no piece of glory to fall by the wayside, there is no soul to left unsaved by the brilliance of language. As writers, we are gods.
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