A friend's Death

Death with unguiformed claws
like a crow dived and
stole you from our world.

Men were like masks in your pocket
friends, hypocrites, where your bullets
one held the gun but many pulled the trigger.

What was it, that that binded you
as tight as your death rope
tighter than death himself?
What innocent thought exaggerated over pain?

Strange it was, as you came you left
Being a part of the race of idiots
being real in a fake world
perhaps made you feel an arid plain

Sweet friend of strange taste
death's choice, a word
darkness, loneliness and mist
the thoughts that haunted you

O Death,
O Dark Pyre

Burn, feed from the pain of this man
If the crows fly westward
this soul is dried out of the body
Like the clouds are dried out of rain

A tensed rope
and the mask cracks and breaks
pieces of humid tears everywhere
Sacred hush
Silence
the end...

"Death is a new birth"
Heraclitus

“Ο θάνατος είναι μια νέα γένεση”
Ηράκλειτος