My Muse: Awakening of the Muse

Death,

A frightening feeling;

Death's dark grip,

As if to die;

Awakening,

A pending lie.

I shall not live.

I've thus to die.

A fear,

A dread;

A fear to live,

A dread to die.

A pompous, arrogant, pure cry.

Naught shall prevail.

The truth can't stand,

Yet coupled

With the peace of land,

I have to live.

I have to stand.

Truth is the answer,

God's true hand.

Awash,

A sea of words,

Aghast,

There is no end to words.

They last.

The true ones surface

Like a wave;

The foam afloat,

Just like the brave;

Just dust to die,

In amber's wake

And ashes to the grave

Don't take;

Just toss to water's deep domain.

There is no longer fear or pain.

Awake to light.

Awake to joy.

The waves still splash,

New words employ.

Thy muse awakens,

Ne'er to sleep,

From depths of longing,

Far too deep.

The muse awakens even in the light of pending death.