Yama

On the funeral day, I was dressed to the black. With grieving souls weeping, just at my back. I began to recall my sweet memory, Of the times I had spent with the one buried deep. It was there in the shadows that I had a seen, A hooded cloaked figure, who was ghoulishly lean. I was frozen at first, caught by this sublime, Neither frightened nor joyous, by this grievous find. With him he brought, a presence so raw. With chills down my spine, I stood there in awe. Then in that moment, I felt a warm light. I turned to be blinded, by passion so bright. Within those moments I had spent blind I relived those feelings, I had left behind. And when that light went on its way, A gentle wind, began to sway. As the air danced, eloquently on my cheek, I marched up to death, and wagered a meet. I asked him a question, he did seem surprised. I asked for the purpose of why people died. The reply that he gave me, I'll never forget. With the lesson he told, I am in his debt. "The leaves do fall, in Autmun's wake, But her guiding winds, do plant Spring's seeds. I must be off, return to life and go on with your sake, But when you go do remember, That through death life succeeds."