I Looked Upon a Dying Rose

I looked upon a dying rose today,

Its wilted petals somber and morose,

Defeated in the violent, fearsome fray

And suff’ring heartily in Death’s black throes.

The victors, Time and Death, saw fit to close

The doors of life and to unjustly hold

The endless joys of Earth from whom they chose,

Transforming beauty to decay untold.

But soft! Should I before them kneel, extol

Their pow’r, concede their gruesome mastery

Over our world and people as a whole?

They hold existence under lock and key.

            For as the wilting of this rose endures,

            Our world shall die, and die against all cures.