The Meaning of Death | A Poem by Julian Grear

What is Death?
Why is it black?
Why is it dark?
Why is it sad?
Why is it bad?
Why is death real?
Why does it make black
Look and feel like shiny emeralds?
Why does it make darkness
Feel like a force to be embraced?
Why does it make sadness
Seem like a form of vengeance?
Why does it make evil
Appear to be a culture?

Why do people reject death
And yet be of the same species
Who choose to control it
And also be its inducers?
What is it about death
That makes our world acknowledge
Only those who have avoided it
Yet bury those who are hit?

Has death become so passionate
As a lustful maid to her master?
Has it become so tasty
That even the animals crave it?
Has it become an idol
For the grim reapers of reality?
Or is it another obstacle
Meant to be overcame
By the few amongst this earth
With the power to fight?

Yet if the sane reject it
And the insane adore it
Why will the sane choose to stray
And leave the insane to have their way?
Will it not make them at fault
For having the power to do
What they claim they want God to do?
Or have they decided in their hearts
To leave the insane alone
And meet their worst fate?