bed of flowers

death is tragedy

and poetry

feeling all the vertices of the sorrow

and hoping for a better tomorrow

the cells and matters reacting to the end of the time

giving back to the earth some of what was wasted

the completion of the life is a oroboro

even though descending sooner than expected

remains the sensation to embrace 

its presence remembrance

a dead creature in the forest

in a bed of flowers to die

life and death is interlaced everywhere we look

departing the body, showing up the flesh,

the worms, the bones, treasure and trash

in strange wilderness, hear banshee's cry