Tristan Robert Lange

The Endless Muse

What is death? Whatever is death?
It has been a cold, pitch black void;
It has been an inky jet pool,
Something we all know to avoid.

It has been a monstrous villain,
A shaded robber in the night,
A treacherous thief of my mind,
And the jailer of my soul\'s light.

It has been my heart\'s greatest fear,
It feeds my great anxiety,
For there is nothing more frigid
Than death\'s cruel impropriety.

It has been a fortunate muse,
A companion in the dark realms;
Death has been my constant complice—
I\'m on a ghost ship it now helms.

It has been a luminous friend,
A companion of my dark soul,
A fine guide that bids me seek truth
And spins a web that snags the whole.