The Dream
Dark red eyes gleam
the tortured souls of thousands are seen
their screams and cries of terror rip through me
calling my tortured heart to join them
as i fall to my knees
i call to those i love
watching as they turn their backs on me
giving me to those eyes as they beckon me
no tears are shed
as my tortured soul joins the dead
            -Princess Kathryn(Blue Moon)


his last minutes...
Looking in the mirror at his hard, horror covered face, Jason felt the hot sting of tears come to his eyes and throat. Quickly he damned the soon to flow river and pinned the tiny note to the mirror just to the right of his image, so that he may have a clear view. His large fingers moved slowly across the blue steel...cold and hard and unnerving, some horrible invention made just for cowards.

bang...
thump...

Red, white and gold falling stars against the bright sky of pain and sorrow. Of regret and long forgotten memories, which finally brought those hot tears..slowly...from the glazed over, once beautiful violet eyes.

The stars fall slower now..slower..as the bright sky turns over into eternal night, taking Jason along with it, forever.
            -Princess Kathryn(Blue Moon)


On death
Can death be sleep, when life is but a dream,
And scenes of bliss pass as a phantom by?
The transient pleasures as a vision seem,
And yet we think the greatest pain's to die.

How strange it is that man on earth should roam,
And lead a life of woe, but not forsake
His rugged path; nor dare he view alone
His future doom which is but to awake.
           John Keats - Posthumous and fugitive Poems


The gods conceal from men the happiness of death, that they may endure life.
           Lucan


The bitterest tears shed over graves
are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.
           Harriet Beecher Stowe

If death were a boy, he would be a lonely figure, standing at the playground’s edge while the air rippled with other children’s laughter.
If death were a boy, he would walk alone. He would speak in a whisper and his eyes would be haunted by the knowledge no human could bear.
 

He's gone.
I do not understand.
I only know
That, as he turned to go
And waved his hand,
In his young eyes a sudden glory shone,
And I was dazzled by a sunset glow--
And he was gone.
 

Life is like a gush of air.
It seems to fly by fast,
But soon enough it disappears,
As surprising as the last.

You never get to say goodbye,
Death slaps you in the face,
And then it seems to laugh at you,
While you are in disgrace.

You never get a second chance,
To apologize,
For all the things you did to them,
Or for all those lies.

You didn't mean to hurt them,
You feel that you're to blame,
Why did they have to leave you,
To live with all the pain.

You know that they can't help it,
It's really not their fault,
You thought that they would live forever,
Then their life comes to a halt.

You really can't believe it,
You know they're really gone,
They've gone to a place of forever,
The curtains of life are drawn.

You will never see them,
They won't stand by your side,
Death has overcome them,
Their life was like the tide.

Why does everything have to die?
And leave you all alone,
All you have is memories,
While they've become unknown.
 

Tichborne’s Elegy
My prime of youth is but a frost of cares,
My feast of joy is but a dish of pain,
My crop of corn is but a field of tares,
And all my good is but vain hope of gain:
The day is past, and yet I saw no sun,
And now I live, and now my life is done.

My tale was heard, and yet it was not told,
My fruit is fall’n, and yet my leaves are green,
My youth is spent, and yet I am not old,
I saw the world, and yet I was not seen:
My thread is cut, and yet it is not spun,
And now I live, and now my life is done.

I sought my death, and found it in my womb,
I looked for life, and saw it was a shade,
I trod the earth, and knew it was my tomb,
And now I die, and now I was but made:
My glass is full, and now my glass is run,
And now I live, and now my life is done.
            Chidiock Tichborne – 1568 – 1586
            Written before his execution

Weep no more, sad fountains;
What need you flow so fast?
Look how the snowy mountains
Heaven’s sun doth gently waste.
But my sun’s heavenly eyes
View not your weeping,
That now lies sleeping
Softly, now softly lies
Sleeping.

Sleep is a reconciling,
A rest that peace begets.
Doth not the sun rise smiling
When fair at ev’n sets?
Rest you then, rest, sad eyes,
Melt not in weeping,
While she lies sleeping
Softly, now softly lies
Sleeping.

To save your world you asked this man to die;
Would this man, could he see you now, ask why?
            W. H. Auden,
            Epitaph for an Unknown Soldier
 

Song
When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me:
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree.
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet:
And if thou wilt, remember
And if thou wilt, forget.
            Christina Rossetti
 

There's no escape
from death's embrace,
though you lead it on
a merry chase.

The dogs of death
enjoy the chase.
Just see the smile
on each hound's face.

The chase can't last;
the dogs must feed.
It will come to pass
with terrifying speed.

To see what we have never seen,
to be what we have never been.
To shed the chrysalis and fly,
depart the earth, kiss the sky,
to be reborn, be someone new:
is this a dream or is it true.

Can our future be cleanly shorn
from a life to which we’re born?
Is each of us a creature free -
or trapped at birth by destiny?

Pity those who believe the latter.
Without freedom, nothing matters.

My life closed twice before its close--
It yet remains to see
If Immortality unveil
A third event to me

So huge, so hopeless to conceive
As these that twice befell.
Parting is all we know of heaven,
And all we need of hell.
            Emily Dickinson
 

Those we hold most dear
Never truly leave us…
They live on in the kindness they showed,
The comfort they shared and the love
they brought into our lives.
            Isabel Norton
 

Death is always on the edge of now. Death stalks us, and he is ever sure of his kill. It is not a thing to dwell on, but it is something we all know, in our guts and our bones.
 

Mourning was meant – insofar as the living are concerned – to bring
about resolution to a relationship, a definite ending.
 

Leave as many seats as possible between yourself and death.
 

The shape and manner of it’s coming is often crueller than death itself.
 

Upon my death, when the stains on my soul are read by He who sits in judgment, I’ll be given my own little space in Hell.
 

Life scars us with it’s random motion. Only death is perfect.
 

Smoke covers the sun
Flames blot out the moon
Grief shrouds my heart.
 

Death is the understanding of the immediate present; that there is finally nothing else.
 

Every person dies, but not everyone truly lives.
 

Grief is good, but guilt is pointless.
 

Duty is heavier than a mountain, death lighter than a feather.
 

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on it’s way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
            Dylan Thomas
            1914 – 1953
 

Words and people are like ghosts
That aren’t bound to stay.
If they’re not remembered,
They just slip away.

The impressions they make
The feelings that they leave
Are impressions by words
Of what people believe.

Words can answer questions like;
Who, what, where, and why.
To forget the words and the people,
Is when they truly die.
 

Death only looks for you when you seek it’s opposite.
 

Death is the only simple thing, and it usually leaves a mess behind for the living.
 

The dead don’t die. They look on and help.
            D. H. Lawrence
 

You can still talk to me after I'm gone. The only difference is I won't be answering you.
 

Why is one death less horrifying than a million? Either you kill or you don't. If you do, then death is just a matter of degree and if it makes sense, if it's efficient, then you kill whom you have to kill. Anyone who doesn't accept that is a naive fool.
            Jeffrey Deaver - The Devil's Teardrop
 

Tears, Idle Tears
Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather in the eyes,
In looking on the happy Autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.

Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,
That brings our friends up from the underworld,
Sad as the last that reddens over one
That sinks with all we love below the verge;
So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.

Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
The earliest pipe of half awakened birds
To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;
So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.

Dear as remembered kisses after death,
As sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned
On lips that are for others; deep as love,
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;
O Death in Life, the days that are no more!
            Alfred, Lord Tennyson - 1847
 

A hand withdrawn from a bucket of water leaves no trace of existence but for the brief reflection of ripples. It is the same with the passing of a life.
 

We'll never stop mourning them, that's as it should be. They should be remembered, even though it's painful. Maybe because it's painful.
 

She was so young, and very fair
That Death could not resist her.
 

The grip of winter and the grave
Are less stringent than my sorrow.
 

Give Sorrow Words
Had I known she was so large, and that her leaving would create this cavernous emptiness, I would have fallen to my knees each morning and worshipped her. I would have strewn flowers at her feet, and would have cherished every smile, every glance from her eyes, every word from her lips.
            Tom Crider, on his twenty-one year old daughter's accidental death.
 

When we die and then we go
do we turn to dust
or do we see a glow?
If heaven is so happy
do the angels ever cry?
if heaven is so welcoming
can the angels say goodbye?
what if God dont give them wings
can the angels still fly?
Until we die and then we go
I guess we'll never know.
            Jennifer Carwile
 

One thing is certain and the rest is lies: The flower that once has bloomed forever dies.
            Edward FitzGerald
 

Watching a peaceful death of a human being reminds us of a falling star; one of a million lights in a vast sky that flares up for a brief moment only to disappear into the endless night forever.
            Elisabeth Kuebler-Ross
 

The past does not leave us until we die, and then we become someone else's memories, until they die. For most men it is all that endures after them. The gods have made it so.
            Guy Gavriel Kay - "Lord of Emperors"
 
 

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