Death is a talented poet,
It has its own language,
It requires astute readers
And attentive critics.
It has hermetic
And sophisticated verses.
It makes no concessions
And doesn't use easy rhymes.
It requires parchment art of illuminations.
Its translators groping
Blindly and hungry.
It is useless to rush
To decode its writing.
It requires skill
Of an old alchemies.
And an expert calligrapher.
It is a master at preparing
Pens and paints.
Death engenders
Its own library.
About the Author
Cleber Pacheco
Member Since: 22 Aug, 2015
Novelist, short story writer, poet and playwright. ...
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